#but if she’s peter then who’s derek? because I can’t see it being will

[doyelikehaggis]

Trying to figure out who is who in a Teen Wolf AU of Glee is hilarious no matter what you do.

[beaconfeels]

A little something for @steterweek Doesn’t exactly fit the prompt, but the spirit is there ;)

Stiles looks down at the book in front of him, biting his plush pink lips. His long lashes flutter against his cheeks when he blinks. The thumb and forefinger of one hand caress the corner of the page he’s reading, back and forth, back and forth. 

All these things, Peter can handle. He’s had time to adjust to how maddeningly pretty Stiles is, his big eyes and long lashes and that mouth, the way he can’t keep his hands to himself. 

As tempting as all these things are, what’s caught Peter’s attention right now is Stiles playing with the long hair by his ear, twisting a curl around his finger. Because Stiles’s hair is long enough to do that now. Stiles’s hair is curling gently around his ears and down his neck and it’s driving Peter wild. 

His boy looks even softer, even prettier this way. And there he goes again, thinking about Stiles as “his” when he really has no right to at all. God he wants that right. 

He jerks at a hand on his arm. It’s Derek, grabbing his arm and dragging him out of his seat, down the hallway to the study. 

“Would you just talk to him,” Derek says, once he’s closed the door. His arms are folded across his chest, and he has his most judgmental eyebrows in full play. “I’m sick of watching you pine after him like some lovesick teenager. Either get over it or ask him out already.” 

Peter snorts. “Fine talk coming from  you.” 

“Hey, only one of us has a partner here, and it’s not you,” Derek says smugly. 

“Yes, because she asked you,” Peter says, not willing to give up the fight. 

“Oh so you expect Stiles to ask you? Stiles, the kid who somehow still doesn’t think he’s attractive? The one who regularly jokes about being single forever? The one who still hasn’t figured out after a year that you’re basically courting him? That Stiles?” 

He won’t admit it out loud, but his nephew might have a point. God he hates when Derek’s right. “What if he says no?” Peter asks, and maybe he’s hoping that Derek knows something he doesn’t, will assure him that Stiles wants him. He doesn’t. 

“Then you can deal with it and get on with your life. Do you really want to waste another year pining over him when maybe he could be yours?”

Derek’s made two good points in a row. The universe must be out of alignment. “Fine. I’ll talk to him,” he grits out. 

“See that you do,” Derek says, sounding almost exactly like his mother. Peter’s heart aches, even in the midst of his annoyance. 

“What was that about?” Stiles asks when Peter gets back to the dining room. 

Peter holds out his hand instead of answering. “Come for a walk with me?” 

Stiles tilts his head, looking like an adorable puppy, trying to figure Peter out. Eventually, he takes the offered hand, and doesn’t let go as they walk out of the house, down the steps, and out into the forest. 

Peter lets himself soak in the moment, listening to the sounds of the trees and Stiles’s heartbeat. Stiles’s hand in his feels warm and comfortable. He wants to live this moment a thousand times in the years to come. 

“You’re not like, dying or anything, right?” Stiles asks after some time. “You’re kind of freaking me out dude.” 

Peter can’t help it, he laughs. His intentions being horribly misread is exactly how this would go with Stiles, isn’t it? They’ve been that way since the beginning. 

“No, sweetheart,” he says once his laughter has calmed, “I’m in love with you.” 

“Oh,” Stiles says. His heart speeds up, but he sounds calm when he says, “I thought you might be? But you’re really hard to read.”

Peter’s stomach drops. “You don’t feel the same?” He asks. They’re still walking, still facing forward. Stiles hasn’t let go of his hand at least, so there’s that. 

“Of course I do,” Stiles says. “I’m absolutely crazy about you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Peter asks.

“Why didn’t you? You’re the one with the super sense of smelling. I figured you knew how I felt, and if you didn’t say anything, you must not want me. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship by bringing it up.” 

“Not want you?” Peter does stop then, touches Stiles’s cheek softly, reverently. “How could I not want you, you gorgeous, brilliant, amazing boy.” 

Stiles’s smile is small but delighted, his eyes dance. “Why now?”

“It’s this goddamn hair,” Peter says, reaching up to tug at a strand. It’s soft. His fingers linger. 

Stiles laughs. “This hair really does it for you, huh?” 

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” 

“What if I told you that I’ve imagined you pulling on it while I…um…you know,” Stiles says, suddenly shy. 

“I’d probably have to kiss you.” 

“You should definitely kiss me then. Because I’ve imagined it. A lot.”

“Oh really?” Peter says, pulling Stiles up against his body. 

“So many times,’ Stiles says, nearly touching their lips together. “Other things too,” he adds, brushing his nose against Peter’s. “Filthy, filthy things. I’ve been a very naughty boy, Peter.” 

Peter kisses him then, a kiss that Stiles quickly turns wet and messy in the best way, the sweetest moans falling from his lips. 

“You’ll be mine?” Peter says, feeling a little drunk on his boy already. 

“I’ve been yours for a very long time,” Stiles says. 

The walk back to the house is slow and meandering, their hearts as intertwined as their hands as they share confessions and secret wishes and hopes. Peter can’t wait to be absolutely insufferable to be around, sickeningly in love. It’s going to be wonderful. 

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 6: Orange Cream and Peachy Sugar

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 13.6k

Warnings: series rewrite, season 1 {aka 2011}, slow burn, friends to lovers, Stiles pining, slight NSFW, usual teen wolf levels of violence and gore, heart conditions, talk of scars {good and bad}, dementia, hospital death, abuse

Request: This just came from my own head 😊  

A/N: I COULDN'T RESIST 😭 Their chemistry is TOO GOOD

Part 5: Mieczyslaw

Part 6: Orange Cream and Peachy Sugar {You Are Here}

Part 7: The Summer Filter

Scott was frantically searching his bedroom for his phone, arguing with Stiles along the way. “The Argent’s plan was to use Derek to get the Alpha. They’re not gonna kill him.”

Stiles sways in a swivel chair, blatantly not helping. “Alright, so then just let them do what they’re planning, you know? They use Derek to get Peter, problem solved.”

“Not if Peter’s going after Allison to find Derek!”

Frown growing on his face, Stiles picks at the weathered wood of the chair, “You know this wasn’t why I came over.” He waits for a reply that doesn’t come – Scott is under his bed, throwing socks and crumpled papers out of the way. Stiles huffs, “We’ve had a major (Y/N) development… hello? Earth to Scott! (Y/N) slept in my bed last night!”

He grinds his teeth at the lack of a reaction, “And she asked me to take Allison to the formal, which is stupid because we could get Jackson or another lacrosse meathead to do that. I should be taking (Y/N) to the formal!”

Scott bangs his head on the underside of his bed, scrambling to get out, “Shut up!” he hisses.

“Ex-fucking-cuse me?!”

Scott hushes him, “I hear voices in the driveway.” He cocks his head to the window and squints his eyes in concentration.

“Who is it?”

“My mom coming home from work… and she’s been crying,” Scott deflates, sinking in on himself. “And (Y/N)’s with her.”

Stiles wheels the chair towards Scott, looking ridiculous with his legs spread out and paddling against the hardwood floor. “What are they saying?”

“(Y/N)’s trying to cheer her up. She’s asking to see me. She’s worried.” He doesn’t even have the energy to groan his sorrow as he sits on the bed, void of dramatics.

Stiles takes a breath, hearing his friends anxiety without needing the words. “Scott, you can’t protect everyone.”

The beat that follows is short and tense, resignation in Scott as he says, “I have to.”

“Well, we’re going to have to put a pause on that because (Y/N) is probably coming inside any second now.” Stiles straightens his jacket, “And she doesn’t want to be involved in any werewolf stuff, remember?”

“I don’t know how we’re supposed to be friends with her and keep her from all that,” Scott sighs, laying on his back and covering his face with his hands.

“Like it or not, she may be the eventual love of my life, meaning you have to suck it up and deal with it.” Stiles chokes on his breath as you knock on the wall before entering the open door.

You wince at the coughing fit Stiles is in, “Good morning.” Your eyes fall on Scott, “I hear something went down last night,” you fold your arms, “Melissa just told me outside. She’s seriously torn up about it.”

Scott finally is able to groan his frustrations, “Everything is going to shit.”

“Someone’s down in the dumps,” you smile, but stop upon seeing the lack of enthusiasm on Stiles’ face. “Any updates?” You play with your fingers, worry evident in your stance as you look between the boys. “Look, just because I don’t want to be there for the werewolf crap doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear about it afterwards.”

“Derek took Jackson to the Hale House and drew Scott out,” Stiles resigns, “It turned into a giant werewolf battle that ended with Scott being shot by the Argents and Derek going missing.”

You whip your head to Scott, lines of worry in your brow, “Are you okay?”

Scott lifts his shirt in a silent reply – no bullet wounds in his torso. He rolls over onto his feet and grumbles, “Deaton patched me up.”

If it was possible, your brows arch even closer to your hairline, “Deaton like your vet boss Deaton? He knows about all this too?”

“Evidently,” Stiles shrugs his shoulders.

“And Peter showed up to threaten Allison’s safety. He thinks the Argents have Derek and now I have to be on guard 24/7 to make sure she’s safe. Not to mention my mom went out with the maniac last night and you are the number one first target should a werewolf want to kill my pack…” Scott was tangling his fingers in his shaggy hair, “And with not going to the dance I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep her safe.”

You walk to stand in front of him, “Scott,” you say softly, “Noone expects you to be a guard dog for all your friends 24 hours a day. That’s impossible and too high an expectation for yourself. You’re just a sophomore in high school.” You raise your arms to grab Scott’s wrists, easing them from his head, “You shouldn’t have to be worrying about all this – it’s why you’re failing your classes.”

He lets you hold onto his arms between you, “But I have to worry; it’s all my fault. And I’ve screwed myself in the long run because now I’m banned from a whole night where anything could happen to you guys.”

You listen, eyes soft and sad, “I wanted to talk to you about who you think should take Allison to the dance, just so you feel more at ease about it.” You finally let go of his arms, returning to your finger picking. “Any ideas?”

“Jackson,” he says, ignoring the silent cheers coming from Stiles behind you. “He likes her, and they have a decent friendship, even if he won’t admit it.”

You nod, “Sounds good. Do you need me to help in any way?”

“Are you going to the dance with Andrew?” he asks, checking all his boxes.

“I don’t know,” you say, “He hasn’t asked me yet, but I have a feeling he might after our date tomorrow.” The smile on your face says it all and Scott again ignores the despair hitting Stiles – the poor boy banging his head into his crossed arms on the chair.

“Let us know,” Scott says, now fixated on finding a way to protect his mom, “We still have a week until the dance.”

You smile, but your eyes are pinched with empathy, “I’ll try to have as many sleepovers as possible with Allison and Lydia this next week,” you say determinedly, “I know you were thinking about stalking her house at night.”

“Only to keep watch,” he says with a slight upturn of his lips.

“But you need your sleep,” you pat his shoulder, turning around, “Doctor’s orders.” You spy on the last remnants of Stiles’ despair as he wipes his face of emotion. You grimace at the terrible unevenness of his hoodie strings. “And have you figured out someone to ask to the dance?”

You move to pull on his hoodie strings, evening them out as you adjust the fabric around his neck. He gulps and takes a second to respond.

“Not yet,” he gasps out a laugh, “We’ll see.”

“There’s always Lydia,” you smile, flattening the fabric against his wide shoulders. “Or you could just go stag.”

~~~

You drive with Lydia that night. It had been so long since the two of you hung out that it was almost awkward visiting the strip mall together – the same one you went to on your first date with Andrew.

The white fairy lights were just starting to turn on as you enter a beauty shop. Lydia goes right for the latest face serums while you follow along. “Don’t you already have every skincare product alive?”

“You can never have too many,” she says, holding up something pink and shiny.

“Actually, too many products can mess with your skin barrier and…”

Lydia holds up a finger, “That doesn’t stop me from having them sit pretty on my vanity.”

You giggle, running your eyes over the pretty packaging of various bottles. They really knew how to draw your attention. “I need a new lip gloss,” you say, encouraging Lydia’s shopaholic tendencies.

“Let me show you some of my favorites,” she says quickly, purse hanging from the crook of her elbow.

Shopping with Lydia was fun, especially when she made you feel beautiful and offered to buy things for you. She had you holding a few things for herself, but also a couple products for you that she refused to let you buy.

“Have you found someone to go to the formal with?” you ask nonchalantly, checking Lydia’s mood.

“I’ve narrowed it down to a couple lacrosse players. We’ll see who asks me by tomorrow.” She purses her lips and leads the way to the checkout line. “Do you know who Allison is going with?’

You hum your response, “Um… I think Jackson might ask her.”

Lydia takes a deep breath, “Sure. Why not.”

“Are you not okay with that?” you ask quietly, “I’m sure Allison will say no if you want her to.”

“I’m not going to control what that conceited little man wants to do. He was a moron to let me go – clearly I’ve been doing better than him since. You know after every lacrosse practice he just goes home? I haven’t seen him at a single after practice party.”

You pull your card out to pay for your things and she smacks your wrist. “How often does the team meet after practice?”

“Like once or twice a week,” she shrugs, “Jackson never liked to go, though. He doesn’t like doing things for popularity’s sake.”

“I’ve noticed he kind of just does things that serve his own best interests.”

“Exactly,” she says a little exasperatedly, handing you the shopping bag. “He’s so full of himself. I don’t know what’s going on with him.”

You hold open the door as Lydia storms out, shoulders tense at the thought of him. “Hey, crazy thought…” you say with a giggle, “Do you want to go spy on him?”

Lydia stops on the cobblestone sidewalk, giving you a dose of skepticism. “Are you crazy?”

“Come on, we could just drive past his house,” you say, still smiling, “It’s what girls do after a hard breakup.”

Consideration fills her gaze, slowly starting to walk again. The click of her heels builds a rhythm as her confidence grows, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to see what he does on a weeknight. I swear he’s become so boring now.”

You laugh, linking arms with her and going for the car. You think about what Stiles said at the hospital. Jackson was focused on getting the werewolf bite. He was becoming an obsessive recluse in his hunt for power. It was no wonder that he avoided people that wouldn’t help him with his mission.

The drive to the upper class part of town was fast and full of loud music. Lydia looks determined as she turns into the neighborhood, headlights blinking off. You turn down the radio and look upon the grand estate that was the Whittmore house.

It looks renovated in comparison to some of the other houses on the street.

“They sure like a clean and modern look,” you remark at the plain white walls and geometric windows.

Lydia scoffs, parking across the street a little away. “He was always so proud of his money. Like it made him something he’s not.”

You feel a twinge of pity. “The poor thing. His Porsche is here – I bet he’s brooding in his bedroom.”

Pointing a finger, Lydia picks the window to Jackson’s room, “He’s up there; the lights on.”

The pair of you deduce what the reclusive boy might be doing. You were just laughing about anime porn and edibles when a loud voice starts yelling within the house you’re parked in front of. Lydia stops her laughter, looking to her right to peer out your window.

“Someone’s having a fight inside.”

You wince at the persistent yells, “Sounds pretty serious.” There was a crash and a boom. It made you jump being the closer of the two to the house. “Oh my god, what are they doing? Breaking things?”

A breath catches in Lydia’s throat when another bellowing yell seems to shake the windowpanes. “Maybe we should get out of here.”

Your mouth falls open when it sounds like someone slams into the front door. “Maybe we should call someone for help.”

The front door opens and a teenager falls out onto his side. He scrambles to get away from whatever was happening within. He trips down the concrete stairs of the front porch and finally makes it to his feet.

You audibly gasp, recognizing the teenager as Isaac Lahey. “Holy shit, I know him!” You go to open the door and Lydia cries out.

“Wait! We should…”

“Lydia…” you spot something bleeding on the side of Isaac’s face, “He’s hurt and he needs help.” You don’t even let her begin a retort as you leap out of the car at Isaac’s retreating form. “Isaac!”

He flinches, turning around in a frenzied motion. He looks wild with fear, holding his hands out like he was going to stop whatever was after him. In a second he looks even more uneasy, “(Y/N)?”

“Get in the car,” you say, keeping your distance, “We’ll get you out of here for a while.”

He looks at the slightly open front door and the look of desperation on your face. He swallows hard and seems fidgety with adrenaline.

“It’s okay,” you say quietly, taking a step forward. “I can help, Isaac. I work at a hospital – I can fix you up. Let’s go take a break somewhere else. Somewhere safer.”

Isaac looks to be choking on something – whether breath or words, you weren’t sure – but you feel a drop of relief as he follows your lead into the car.

Lydia looks petrified as she faces forward, two hands on the wheel. “This is not how I expected tonight to go.”

You put on your seatbelt and ask her firmly to drive to your house. “Is that okay, Isaac? My dad is at the firehouse and my mom is probably napping on the couch. She always does after having some of her tea.”

“Um…” Isaac wraps his arms around himself, trying to hide just like he did in the computer lab. “Yeah, sure.”

In those few seconds you look over your shoulder, you check the bleeding to the side of his face. The skin must’ve split open from some kind of force. In another second you notice the bruise around his eye.

It was yellow and green with age.

It’s quiet as Lydia tensely drives the car to your house. You try to silently thank her for going along with your plan. You were concocting scenarios in your mind as to why Isaac was so hurt. The yells, the bruises, the crashes and bangs, the fear as he scrambled away.

You think, sadly, of how alone Isaac always was. You realize that there wasn’t a single instance you could think of when he was with anyone. There was just that one time you spoke with him in the computer lab.

What was he actually dealing with at home?

Lydia was curt as she drove away from your house, no doubt brewing a passive aggressive text for you. Isaac, though extremely tall, seems to shrink beside you. He doesn’t look up as he follows your footsteps.

“Is this okay?” you ask gingerly, stopping at the door. “I just want to take you upstairs and have a look at that cut. It’ll be a quick bandage and then we can do whatever you like. We’ll take a break for a while.”

He seems to stew for a few seconds, not daring to look you in the eye. You suddenly wish to see them bright blue with the smile he got from laughter. The one you complimented him on. He finally speaks in a quiet tone, “Yeah, that’s okay.”

“Good,” you say, opening the door and going for the stairs. Peering over the banister you see just as you predicted. Your mother is fast asleep with a book resting open on her chest, and an empty mug of tea on the side table. “I swear that chamomile one she has puts her right to sleep.”

You walk upstairs and to the hallway bathroom. You put the toilet lid down and gesture for him to sit. Under the sink, and next to an array of things that sometimes help you when you feel faint, is a first aid kit.

Isaac looks wary as he holds his hands in his lap. It seems pretty plain what was going on. Something to do with an angry dad at home. You suddenly remember how apprehensive he was when you mentioned asking his dad for permission to go on the spring retreat.

“What was it that split your cheek open?” you ask gently, just a few inches taller than him as he sits.

He looks fearful to admit the truth. “I uh… fell.”

You nod, knowing it was a lie. “Pretty hard fall,” you give him a sad smile as he appears relieved you don’t question further. “I’m just going to clean it and put a butterfly bandage on, okay?”

He swallows again, wringing his hands, “Sure.” He winces as you swab a disinfectant wipe along his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly.

“It’s okay,” is his reply. He continues to be on edge as you pinch the cut closed and place a butterfly bandage on it. You let the silence continue if that is what he wants to do.

You’re throwing away the used wipes now, “Is that what happened to your eye?” you ask, “Another bad fall?”

He looks at you and seems to soften at the understanding in your gaze. It was warm and safe. He takes a deep breath, “Yeah. Another fall.”

“Would you consider yourself pretty clumsy?” you ask vaguely, stating the obvious without saying it out loud.

He catches on pretty quick, “It depends. Some days are better than others.”

You nod again, “Would you like something for the pain? I’ve got some ibuprofen or Tylenol.”

He agrees and follows you down the stairs again to find your mother groggy on the couch.

“Oh, hello sweetie,” she says, rubbing her eyes, “Who’s this?”

“This is Isaac,” you introduce, filling a glass with water. “He lives by Jackson Whittemore.”

Angela smiles though her eyes are droopy, “Nice to meet you, Isaac.” She suddenly squints, “What happened to your face, dear?”

He freezes as you open the medicine cabinet, “Oh, just lacrosse practice.”

He looks grateful, adding quietly, “I uh… got tackled without my helmet.”

“Boys,” Angela says funnily, “Well, hopefully it heals fast.”

Isaac gives a half smile before accepting the medicine from you, “Thank you.”

You’re still gentle as you reply, “You’re very welcome.”

~~~

The next night turns into a better one as you go on your second date with Andrew. He takes you to a Barnes & Noble, buying you a book and a coffee inside. Sitting in the little indoor café, sipping hot drinks and nibbling on pastries, you discuss your favorite genres.

Andrew listens to you with bright eyes, a sweet smile on his face. He takes you back to his house after that, turning on a Disney movie like you agreed on the last date. It only took about twenty minutes before he was pulling your chin towards his.

The night ends with a long-winded makeout and a winter formal proposal.

You were fit to burst with the information the next day, wanting to talk to the girls about the whole thing – but Allison had been off the radar the last couple of days and Lydia was attending after practice parties with the lacrosse team.

No doubt scouting for her next boyfriend (and date to the formal).

The next best option was Stiles. He picks you up and takes you to the nearest gas station for drinks and treats. You grab all your favorites, including peach rings and a large orange creamsicle.

The perfect summer treats to remind you of your favorite season.

Stiles insists on paying for the load, throwing his gummy worms and sodas on the counter. “I’d slip you cash anyway if you tried to pay.” He’s amused by your sweet smile as you open the creamsicle.

He even opens the jeep door and holds all the packages before dumping them on the floor between you.

“You’re going to step on them as you drive,” you cry, reaching down to shove all the snacks towards your feet. You almost lose a line of melting orange from your creamsicle. You lick a long stripe up the cold pop, “Should we just stop at the park?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah sure,” he says, putting the jeep in gear. “You enjoying that popsicle?”

Your lips kiss the tip of the pop, embarrassed when it makes a slurping sound, “Of course, it’s the best desert besides cheesecake.” The park isn’t far from the gas station, Stiles parking in front of the field and playground, turning off the engine. You continue to kiss and lick the creamsicle until orange and white ice cream is coating your lips.

Stiles wonders what it would taste like to kiss it off.

“My mom used to take me to this park when I was little,” you say, settling against the door and kicking your feet onto the seats.

Stiles does the same, one leg bent onto the seats and the other off the edge, able to bounce if needs be. “My mom did too,” he adds, a finger at his temple and thumb at the beginning of his jawline. He considers you, “I can see you just dying to tell me what happened.” He says it with convincing eagerness, but his face is placid as he says it.

He chooses to focus on how you lick the last remnants of ice cream off the wooden stick. It made him squirm within five seconds.

“Well, Andrew did ask me to the winter formal,” you say in hushed tones, “But that isn’t the best part. We kissed again and not just a goodbye on the doorstep kind of kiss – like a on the couch with a movie in the background kind of kiss. It must’ve been like forty-five minutes before his parents got home.”

And before you knew it, you were delving into the details of the entire night, focusing on the exciting kiss at the end. You start to compare the kissing with other boys you’ve been with before, critiquing the skill level and any corresponding downsides.

You open the sugary peach rings, chewing on them as you say, “Overall, I’d give it a solid B or B-.”

“You’re kidding!” Stiles retorts, stretching a gummy worm between his fingers, “You just went off about how great it was.”

“Yeah, but…” you shrug, sticking a peach ring on the tip of your finger like it was a life preserver for it. “… his technique was a little much.”

Stiles bites the head off his gummy worm, “What do you mean?”

“He was kind of abrasive, I had to keep telling him to slow down.” At the look of confusion on Stiles’ face, you keep going – you forget that he’s never kissed anyone before. “From the first kiss it was like he was eating my face. They were very open mouthed, and he kept trying to use tongue. I finally told him to slow down after I felt our teeth knock a couple times.”

Stiles grimaces, “That doesn’t sound fun.”

“I didn’t peg him for being the aggressive kisser,” you shrug, “It might’ve been nice if I wasn’t so surprised – like I could’ve matched his energy a bit better.”

“So, you… wait – what kind of kissing do you like?”

You ponder the question, eating the peach preserver on your finger, “I like it slow at first, you know – like you hold a cheek and draw each other in. Then it should get heavier, like more firm kisses, and you usually start moving at that point. Like… you get closer and I might sit on his lap or something.” You pull apart another peach ring, playing with the sticky gumminess between your fingers, “Then I like it when… oh my god, this was another thing! He never left my mouth.”

Stiles was only able to listen because of (1) his feelings for you and (2) the possibility that he could get some pointers on how to charm you. He had to listen to your previous encounters – a very real knife of white hot pain stuck in his collarbone and digging down his sternum – but he was getting a front row seat to your kissing preferences.

“I thought that’s how kissing works?”

You throw a candy at him, and he chases it down his chest. “Yeah, one type of kissing. But that gets boring after ten minutes. I like it when they start to kiss my neck and chest. How did you think people got hickeys?”

Stiles grumbles, head drifting to not just your ice cream lips, but the warm pulse at your neck, and the beauty marks on your skin below that. He quickly understood the desire to kiss other parts of the body.

“I get it,” he says, taking another sip of his soda. He kept finding his throat going dry, “So start slow, get more intense, and don’t forget to kiss other areas.” He nods to himself, “And the tongue thing?”

You grimace, “It can be nice if they know what they’re doing.” You sigh, slouching against the car door, “Easton from down the street was a heavy tongue guy. Like he saw one couple frenching on tv and decided that was the best way to kiss. It was like… so so wet. My chin was covered in drool by the time he left.”

Stiles was already hot around the collar, skin splotchy with red and pink. But he was starting to get an awful anxious feeling in his stomach, “There are so many things to remember.”

You look endeared as you lean forward, “But when you’re with the right person, it just feels natural. You click like all the puzzle pieces fit between you. You stop thinking about all the details and just go with what feels good.”

He tilts his head, and he looks so nervous and curious, “Was that Adam from San Fransico?”

The breath catches in your throat for a second, “Nearly. It was like a first love. It did feel natural with him, but our puzzle pieces didn’t all fit right.”

Stiles bites at his lips, “I think I had something similar to that. Never to the point where we kissed, but… I kind of obsessed over Lydia for a couple years.”

Your eyes widen, “You’re kidding, our Lydia?”

He nods, embarrassed, “Our puzzle pieces didn’t fit right either. Come to think of it, it didn’t really feel natural either. I guess that’s a pretty crummy first love, huh?” He smiles like he pities himself.

You frown, so entirely endeared by him that you feel a warmth enter your chest at his somber expression. The desire to hold him and show him what it feels like to be natural and wanted came on hard and fast.

“You can always learn to be a good kisser,” you smile, “But yes, having your puzzle pieces all fit makes all the difference in the world.”

“And how did you learn to be a good kisser?” he asks, crumbling his candy wrappers and throwing them in the back.

“That’s a bold assumption,” you laugh, “I never said I was a good kisser.”

He shrugs, playing with the hem of his shirt now, “I can just tell. There’s no way you’re a bad kisser.”

You feel rosy at those words, “I just learned from trial and error. I never had a teacher or anything.”

“I bet you’d be an excellent teacher,” he mumbles. His eyes go wide, clamping his mouth shut, biting his tongue.

You’re giddy as you laugh, “There’s only one way to find out, I guess.” Your eyes trail around his mole-dotted skin, guiding you to his slightly chapped lips and the cupids bow that leads to his perked nose. You love how red and flushed his skin is.

“What are you implying, Miss. Westbrook?” His eyes are bright, but he is deadly still.

“I don’t know,” your hands go to your temples, laughing a bit breathlessly. “Must be a sugar rush, don’t mind me.” There is something hot and heavy filling the space of the jeep, and you suddenly want to open the window to let in some cold air. You feel Stiles’ eyes on you like a deer caught in the headlights.

The silence is deafening as you turn your peachy gaze to his. He is flushed and breathing heavy and…

You consider it.

“Friends can kiss.” You pout adorably as you reason, “Scott and I kissed.”

“Not willingly,” Stiles says in his breathless voice, a small smile curling his chapped lips.

You wave a hand, “It’s purely a teaching moment.”

“Exactly…”

“But we did already make a kissing pact.”

“We can null and void the whole pact. Make it invalid based on… new circumstances.” He looks deep into your eyes before snapping out of it, shaking his head. “Wait… no, I… kissing you (Y/N)…” he was really struggling, fidgeting in his seat. “I want to but… what if I’m a terrible kisser and you’re so nauseated by it that you never want to kiss me again? I don’t wanna – I don’t want to mess it up.”

You try to decipher the speech, fogginess entering your brain as you focus on the shadows dancing across his skin.

“It’s a chance you have to take,” a smile on the tip of your words, “I did say I would help you get your first kiss out of the way.”

He struggles for breath, “Does that mean the offer still stands… to happen right now?”

You inch across the seats, in the middle now and loving how Stiles was having such a visible reaction. He goes rigid, his mouth open and eyes turning desperate. He looks scared and wanting. It looks conflicting… and hot.

“If you really want a lesson right now.” You whisper it like a newfound secret, “Only if you want to.”

“If I want to?” he sounds disbelieving, “Of course I… I mean, I don’t think I could ever say no to you, (Y/N).”

Something blossoms in your chest and it’s warm and addictive, you chase after it – prompting you to get closer, “C’mere,” you say gently and smile at how responsive Stiles is. He moves forward like a puppy searching for a treat.

You raise a hand and pause right before touching his cheek, “You sure?”

“Positive,” he says immediately, nearly leaning into your hovering hand.

You smile, touching his face and winding your hand to under his ear, your thumb in the perfect position to rub along his cheekbone. His eyes flutter close and an inaudible sigh escapes his open mouth. With the tips of your fingers reaching the back of his neck, you pull his face closer to yours. You position him at a slight angle, and he responds to your direction instantly.

He opens his eyes to find your noses nearly touching. You’re both breathing shallow, sharing the air between you, feeling it breeze and dry against your lips. He smells like candy.

And you… you smell like orange cream and peachy sugar.

“Put one hand here,” you direct his hand to your waist. Your heads stay close, gazes flickering between eyes and lips. “And another here,” you put his other to the side of your neck. His hands are so large – his fingers so long – you feel them shake as they engulf the space between your neck and shoulder. His thumb rests on your jawline while the side of his pinky sits on your collarbone. “Do what feels natural,” you whisper. “It’ll come to you.”

One hand shakes on your waist, testing a light pressure while his other hand rests very warm against the side of your neck, afraid to move.

You tilt your head to match his and find his dark honey eyes illuminated by the park streetlamps. They were still slanted in nervous desperation. He didn’t dare move, but you can tell he wants to – wants to badly.

“Close your eyes,” you say quietly, and your lips barely brush against his as you speak.

His lids close instantly – he is so pliable under your hand.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, nervously twitching his fingers against your skin.

You smile, still looking at his eager expression as you brush your nose against his slightly upturned one. And then you slot your mouth on his bottom lip. You hold it there as he tenses, his hand gripping your waist suddenly – the other digging his fingertips in the soft skin of your neck.

You pull away a few inches and say, “There… you’ve had your first kiss.”

His lips search for you, leaning forward until his eyelids fly open, “What? That’s...” his throat bobs and he clenches his teeth so you see the muscle bulge on his jaw. “Any more things you can teach me?”

You lick your lips, giggles falling out of your mouth until he cracks a small smile. You put your forehead to his, smiling wide, “The night’s still young.” You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, “You need to relax. You’re super tense, mischief. I’m giving you permission to move your hands to whatever feels natural.”

At his quick question of hesitance, you continue, “I would tell you if anything made me uncomfortable. As long as you do too.”

He nods frantically, eager to go again with less nerves this time. Winding a hand to the back of his neck and into the short crop of his hair, you pull him towards your mouth. You kiss him softly but curiously.

You peck and move. Lip lock and switch sides. Press firmly and repeatedly. And slowly the tension falls from Stiles’ shoulders. He grips you with less anxiety and with more curiosity. A hand drags up your side, feeling the dip of your waist up to your ribcage and the line of your bra beneath your shirt. His hand drags down the same path, feeling all the same things before landing on your hips, thumb feeling the edge of your jeans.

His other hand finally relaxes, long fingers winding around your neck until his thumb is resting right on your artery. The pad of his thumb tickling under your jaw. He was being light and soft near your face, only using the pads of his fingers – while his other hand was searching with more pressure.

He was just going down to put his hand on your thigh to squeeze when your breathing hitches. He pulls away instantly, lips pinker than before and eyes wide with worry. His hands are off you in a second and you almost… almost… whine in protest.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Did I do something you didn’t like?”

You take a calming breath, slumping your shoulders, ��No, in fact you’re taking my advice beautifully. You relaxed and started exploring – that’s one of the best parts about kissing someone new.” You brush a few strands of hair behind your ear, made loose when Stiles moved his hand to the back of your neck.

“Then why did…”

“I…” it was your turn to be shy, “I liked when you gripped my leg.”

Stiles widens his eyes with wonder now, “I made you make that noise?”

“Like I said, you take advice beautifully… and it works.”

He smiles wide, his turn to laugh at your endearing shyness. “Can we keep going?”

You match his smile and reply by going in for more kisses. This time you cup both his cheeks between your hands and Stiles squeaks in surprise. Both his hands land on your thighs, squeezing them under his larger palms.

You take a sharp intake of breath instead of making a noise, and Stiles fucking smiles against your lips.

Your hands touch his abdomen, and he sucks in taut, probably never having been touched there before. You quickly move up to his chest to find the expanse of his pectorals. Like you expected, Stiles isn’t rippled with worked muscle, but there’s a kind of lanky natural muscle beneath his shirt. You trail your hands up past his collarbones and around his shoulders. With your arms there you can pull him even closer.

He has to move his hands to the small of your back to remove any more space between you. He’s able to press you into him from that position.

Your hands search for his shoulder blades, fingers applying pressure there. His fingers were spreading wide against your lower back, thumbs wrapping around your waist while his fingertips touch your spine.

Your lips still fall into an easy pattern of firmly pressed kisses, switching sides and from top lip to bottom lip. Some are quick and rapid, others are longer and deeply felt. Your noses brush and press into cheeks as you struggle for air at times.

“When can I…” he kisses you, “…move from your mouth?”

You smile, kiss him, smile again. “Whenever it feels like…” you kiss again, “…the right thing to do next.”

He hums deep in his throat, moving his hands up your spine beneath your shoulders. Then he moves his lips. He places two quick kisses along your jaw and lands on your neck, right beneath the bend in your jaw. Your head falls back as he leaves chaste kisses there.

“Is this good?”

You breathe with your chest pressed against his, “You see how my head fell back? That means I like it and I’m giving you more access.”

He makes another low sound and it sends tingles of pleasure down to your core.

You keep a hand on his shoulder, supporting yourself while the other hand scrapes against his head, short hair bristles tickling your palm. You love the sound it pulls out of him.

“Open your mouth a little more,” you say, “Bigger kisses.”

He responds eagerly, excited to see what the change will do to you. His mouth opens more, leaving big, wet kisses under your ear and down your neck. A shiver runs through you, making your shoulders tense a little.

Then your watch starts to blare with an alarm.

Stiles flies off you like he was killing you, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he cries, backing away to assess you. “I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry.”

You steady yourself by gripping the back of the chair, realizing too little too late that your breathlessness was catching up to you. Your heart was working overtime. You lift your free hand, eyes scrunched as it gets harder to force air into your lungs.

“God, shit…” Stiles mumbles, coming closer again. He puts one hand on your chest, over your sternum. And his other hand holds the side of your face, thumb resting at your temple. “You feel my hand? Do you see it moving with your breaths? You need to move your breaths to your belly – your belly should move with breaths, not your chest. Try to make my hand stop moving.”

You look at him with watering eyes, your heart beating erratically in your ears. Stiles was counting the seconds until you start belly breathing – breathing with your diaphragm.

“There you go, that’s better.”

You slump into his neck and his hand wraps to the back of your head, the other to your back.

“That was unexpected,” you say quietly, lips tickling his neck.

He laughs, “I’m guessing you liked the other kisses more than the grabbing the thigh thing?”

“Maybe just a tad bit,” you say, “I told you I liked it beforehand.”

“You did,” he says, pulling you back to get a good look at your face. “You’re okay.”

You smile, “I’m okay.”

He starts to get this giddy look, “We kissed.”

“That we did.”

“Like a lot.”

“It was a lesson in many things.”

He screws up his lips, “And you liked it.”

“You take direction well.”

“I don’t know why guys don’t ask more,” he marvels, “It would make every makeout exactly what you want.”

“You are a rare breed,” you bite your lip and his eyes dart to look. “Did you like it?”

“I loved it.”

His quick answer pulled a laugh out of you. And once you start, you can’t stop. Stiles finds it cute and finds himself laughing too. Just two friends giggling in the car after an impromptu round of kissing. It was warm and light and felt… good.

“I don’t think you need to worry about messing things up with the next girl,” you say, scooting back to your side of the car, “You’ll do just fine.”

His laughing stops abruptly. “The next girl?”

“Yeah…?” you smile with a furrowed brow. “You wanted to learn to be a good kisser, right? To have your first kiss out of the way for any future girls?”

He looks put out, slightly angry, and… defeated. “Right, we had that pact.”

“Right,” you say, wondering what was miscommunicated between you two. “Maybe we should… head home for the night.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, looking for his keys, “Andrew will probably be sending you a goodnight text any second now.”

You scrunch your brow, lips resting in a frown as he turns the jeep on. You’re quick to notice the steamy windows from your hot and heavy kissing. You would’ve laughed at it if you didn’t feel like something was off in Stiles.

With the air conditioning and heater broken, you roll down the windows and Stiles tells you to stay in the car as he wipes down all others outside.

You watch him with a finger between your teeth. Did you just mess up?

~~~

You spend the next couple days trying to convince yourself that kissing Stiles was simply practice kissing. There wasn’t anything past friendly feelings between you two. It was a no strings attached kind of makeout.

It had to be.

You didn’t have feelings for Stiles. You were going out with Andrew Wickstrom for gods sake.

And again you feel guilty. If you acknowledge any interest in Stiles, then kissing him was a betrayal to Andrew.

But it’s not like you were seriously dating Andrew.

But maybe to him you are.

You hadn’t found a reason to talk to Scott and Stiles outside your friendly conversations at school. Scott didn’t usually text you, but Stiles? If he couldn’t think of a good enough reason to climb the garden trellis, he would text you about the most random things.

Facts about honeybees, star wars memes, updates on a Dateline investigation you were following, werewolf puns, and links to things he thought would make you smile.

Recently? He hasn’t texted you at all. While he wasn’t avoiding you at school, he sure as hell was when you were home.

You are currently in the mall with Lydia and Allison, picking out dresses for the winter formal. All three of you are acting distant and suspicious of each other, which is not a good look for the pretty girls club.

Getting onto an escalator, you question Allison about her frequent absences.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she says, “I just have a lot on my mind.”

You wonder if there’s been a recently discovered secret in her family – maybe like a kidnapped werewolf?

“But Jackson’s taking you to the formal,” you say, “That was nice of him.”

“Yeah, just two recently broken up friends supporting each other by going to the school dance,” Allison says with smiling sarcasm. “And what dumb, roided-up jock did you say yes to?” she asks Lydia.

“Ben Manley,” Lydia sighs, “More of a himbo if you ask me, but he’ll look good in the pictures.” She drags you two towards the prom dress section, quick to pull dresses to try on. She’s four hangers in by the time you find one you like.

“Advice,” you say to Allison, “Do I care if my surgery scars show, or do I go with a collar that climbs up to my neck?” You hold up one deep blue dress that has a lower heart-shaped neckline and another soft purple dress with a small v-neck shape that stops just under the collarbone.

Allison considers for a second, “The blue is more flattering, and you’d look great in that color. I’d say screw whoever doesn’t like you for your scars. They’re the reminder that you’re still alive.”

“Damn, okay,” you smile, “I’m going to try the blue one on.” You fling the purple chiffon dress onto a mannequin display and head for the dressing rooms.

Lydia is there with a small pile of dresses she’s already said no to. You talk to her loudly between the dressing cubicles.

“How’s it looking?”

“The cream chrome one is promising,” she says, “Hey, are we hanging out after this? I’ve got a new foot soaker I want to try. We can do mani pedis before the dance.”

You shimmy into your blue gown, loving how it flairs at your waist in beautiful night sky sparkles. “Yeah, I’d love a sleepover! It’ll be the perfect way to get ready for the dance.” There are two thick straps of the same dark blue fabric that go over your shoulders. The neckline falls lower in a heart shape, outlining the curve of your breasts and revealing your arms and chest.

The scar from your heart defect correction is less raised, less discolored, and less noticeable – but you see it run down the center of your chest. The small, three-inch incision scar from last summer is newer and still red and raised above your heart. And finally the four deep claw marks that dig around your left shoulder and arm – they leave actual divots in your flesh, and you can’t help running a finger over them. They went up and down like tiny rollercoasters.

“Get out here, Westbrook. I want to see if it’s a keeper.”

You take a deep breath, shaking your fingers through your hair to give it more volume. You step into the hallway and find Lydia in a shiny cream colored dress, complete with a black flower in her hair.

“You look amazing,” you say, smiling, “And the dress really shows off your legs. You gotta pair it with a heel.”

“I look amazing?” Lydia gawks, “Look at how flattering that one is on you! It doesn’t flair out like a ballgown, but enough to give you an airy look. And the top is stunning, it fits your figure well.” She doesn’t even mention the scars.

You grin, “I think that settles it. We’ve got our winners.” Lydia goes to change, and you agree to show Allison since she picked the dress for you.

You walk out barefoot, lifting your dress a little to give you easier access to walk faster. You find Allison holding a funny feathered dress to a mirror. It takes you a second to realize that she isn’t alone.

A man is there holding a silver dress to her figure. A man you recognize at a second glance.

It was Peter Hale, one of your long-term patients at the hospital – and the Alpha.

You run over, calling for Allison’s attention, “What do you think?”

She looks grateful to be rescued, “Absolutely beautiful, (Y/N). That’s the one for sure.”

“(Y/N)?” Peter says, “Ah, yes – you look stunning.” He goes to shake your hand, “Peter.”

You hesitate. He’s playing the ‘never-met-you-before’ coverup. “I think I’ve seen you before. Maybe… at the hospital? That’s where I work.”

He has a clever smirk on his face as he retracts his hand, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Somewhere else maybe…” you stare him down. “Like the local video store perhaps.”

“Never been much into movies,” but he does look at your exposed skin to admire his handywork to your shoulder, “You’ve got quite the collection there.” He smiles, “Wearing them like badges of honor.”

“Like a friend said,” you say, chin held high. “They’re a reminder that I’m still alive.”

He still has that subtle smirk, otherwise very rigid and unsettling, “Yes, you are.” He sounds like he would add, ‘not for long’ to the end of that.

The PA system comes on and a fuzzy woman’s voice says, “Attention, shoppers. The owner of a blue Mazda, your car is being towed.”

“What?” Allison says, “That’s my car!” She runs to find the front desk or the car outside.

You’re left with Peter, barefoot and in a pretty starry dress. He looks to you with a plain expression that held sinister notions regardless.

“Well played,” he mutters, “Scott.” You don’t dare look away from him as he talks to the thin air. “Just remember… you can’t be everywhere all the time.” He looks to you with roaming eyes, “It’s been nice seeing you, (Y/N). I’m glad you like my addition to your complexion so much. It makes me think you may want more to add to this masterpiece.”

You hate the way he stays there to gauge your reaction. You stand firm, but your fingers dig into the fabric of your dress.

“You really do look stunning in that dress,” he smiles, “It’d be a shame if it got shredded.” He walks away, leaving you feeling strangely violated and targeted. You feel angry and unsafe.

Scott was at your side in seconds, grabbing your arms, “(Y/N)? Are you okay?”

You take a shaky breath, “He’s a persistent bastard.”

“Yeah, and he’s just threatened to attack you – probably at the dance judging by how he complimented your dress.” He stands straight, listening for Lydia or Allison. “Listen, I heard how you’re having a sleepover tonight. That’d leave me free to…”

“I’ll look after the girls,” you smile, still cold and shaky from the encounter. “You look after your mom and the boys.”

He gives you a look, clearing his throat, “Right, course.”

You squint your brow, “What has Stiles told you?”

Scott scratches at his head, looking anywhere but you, “Nothing much, he’s been quiet these days.”

“Impossible,” you snort, “You may be a super cool teenage werewolf, Scott – but you are a terrible liar.”

He looks defeated, “Look, he told me how you guys kissed and he’s… he’s kind of hung up on it.”

“In what way?”

He bites his lip, looking painfully awkward, “He doesn’t want you thinking it was a mistake. He’s… scared you regret it.” Scott shoves his hands in his pockets, “He realizes it might be weird trying to be friends, and you with Andrew… he’s trying to keep the friendship civil.”

“Civil?” you scoff, “It was a no feelings kiss.”

Scott keeps his mouth shut, nodding his head and backing away, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

Your mouth is left hanging open as he walks away. Did you feel regret for the kissing? You put one hand on the silken fabric covering your hip, the other hand going to rub away the worry lines in your forehead.

Did you feel guilty because you had been going on dates with Andrew? Had you ever set clear expectations with Andrew before? If he felt like this was taking a direction into serious relationship territory, you would definitely feel guilty.

And Stiles not being completely himself…? Was that really because he was worried you thought the kiss was a mistake? Or was it because of some other unknown reason.

Returning to the dressing rooms, you knew one thing was for sure. You were in desperate need of a girls night.

~~~

In the second story living room of the Martin house, you three spend hours into the night pampering yourselves and raving about whatever came to mind.

When Harry Met Sally plays quietly on the tv in front of you, Allison leaning onto the couch and painting her toes a white color.

“I hope I don’t smudge these before they dry.”

“Here’s a fast drying topcoat you can put on them,” Lydia tosses a small clear polish. She was stuck in the armchair beside the couch with her feet bubbling in the new foot soaker. “I think I’m going to go with black for my toes. Maybe black French tips with my fingernails.” She admires her hands as you place the black polish bottle near her for later use.

You sit between the two, your toes drying an inky blue color while you prepare to paint your nails. You unscrew a pretty sapphire blue. “Can I ask you guys something?”

“Please,” Lydia pouts, leaning back in her chair.

“Do you consider Andrew and I in a serious relationship?”

Allison frowns, focusing on her brush strokes, “Um… maybe? You guys have been dating exclusively, right?”

“Only two dates.”

“No,” Lydia clicks her tongue, “You guys have had two dates and a few noncommittal kisses. I don’t think that means you’re dating seriously.”

Allison dips her brush again, “But if you’re not seeing anyone else then people will think you’re exclusive.”

“But what if I have seen someone else,” you shrug, “I guess that doesn’t matter if Andrew thinks something different.”

There was a splash, “Hold the phone. Are you saying you’ve gone out with someone else recently?”

You pull an indecisive face, “Well, no – just maybe had a… makeout.”

Allison gasps while Lydia giggles, “Oh my god, with who?!”

“I don’t know if I want to talk about it yet.”

“Well, if you’re kissing other boys then you definitely don’t think you’re seriously dating,” Allison shakes her head, “Does Andrew?”

Your shoulders tense as you focus on your nails, “I don’t know. We never had a ‘what are we’ talk. And I never told him I didn’t want anything serious.”

“Ouch,” Allison grimaces, “I think he really likes you.” 

Lydia has her arms folded tightly, “Was it Josh Arnett?”

“Gross,” you accuse, “Absolutely not.”

“Tanner Humphries?”

“No, Lydia,” you huff, “What do I tell Andrew?”

Allison stretches her legs out and wiggles her newly painted toes, “You tell him the truth. At least, you tell him you don’t want anything serious.”

“I bet it was Lucas McCrary,” Lydia muses.

“Should I do that before the dance?” you ignore Lydia. “I think it’ll hurt him.”

Allison fishes in the bucket of self-care on the couch cushion, “It’s better than leading him on further.” She extracts an avocado sheet mask.

“Was it at least someone on the lacrosse team?” Lydia interjects.

You give a tired smile, “Because those are the only boys you know?”

“The only boys I care about.”

You finish one hand and ask Allison to help with the other, “What if Andrew decides he doesn’t want to take me to the dance anymore?”

“Then…” Allison takes the sapphire blue from you, “You go stag and hangout with us. I have a suspicion that Jackson isn’t going to be the most enjoyable date.”

“Oh! Please tell me it was Tyler O’Connell – no girl can get her hands on him.”

You laugh and faceplant into the couch, “Tyler O’Connell is gay. Danny has had a little crush on him for months.”

“Huh,” she huffs, “I’m usually good at catching those things.”

“I think I’ll talk to him after school tomorrow,” you rub your worry lines with your free hand. “If anything Allison, you and I could just be each other’s dates.”

“I have a feeling I’ll be abandoned by the end of the night with how Jackson’s been acting,” she sighs, doing a second coat on your nails. “I wouldn’t mind a sweethearts dance with you.”

Lydia is having an existential crisis in the armchair, confined with her feet in the soaker. “Well, it can’t be Cameron Sanchez because he’s going with that Brittany girl in homeroom. It’s not Henry, is it?”

“What’s with the tone?” you giggle, “I like Henry Greenburg even if Coach is a little harsh with him.”

“What about…” she widens her eyes, “What about dork #2?”

Allison freezes with the paintbrush still on your nail. You take a moment to decipher what Lydia just asked.

“Who is…” you clamp your mouth into a thin line.

“Oh my god!” Lydia stands with her feet still in the soaker.

Allison flinches, “Holy shit.” She looks at your nails, “Oh, shit – I’m sorry, (Y/N).” She takes a cotton swab to fix the smudge of blue going down your ring finger. “I just… I mean…”

“What was that dorks name?” Lydia squeals, waving her hands frantically and snapping at Allison. “He’s – god, what’s his name!” She looks ridiculous being rooted to one spot but moving her upper torso like a madwoman, “He’s the little weirdo… the idiot in love!”

Your face is positively blooming red, it’s scorching, as you bury your face in a couch pillow. Allison is quick to correct her mistake to your nails, replying in a much calmer and heartwarming voice. “Stiles Stilinski.”

“Stiles!” Lydia cries in triumph before frowning, “That’s his name?”

“Yes,” you cry out, “Yes, Stiles. And it was another noncommittal kiss. It was absolutely no feelings. I was just helping him out.” In your embarrassment you slap your free hand to cover your mouth, “God, don’t ask me why,” you mumble.

Allison waits for Lydia to ask – like she knew she would.

“Why?” Lydia says, still standing in the foot soaker.

“It doesn’t matter,” you pat at your flaming hot cheeks, “What matters is that I did kiss him, and I need to clarify with Andrew that I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“I knew he was going to grow on you,” Allison mumbles with a sweet smile on her face. She finishes doing your nails and sits back on the couch. “He’s been obsessed with you for months now.”

You shake your head, “Stiles is just… very enthusiastic. He was just excited about getting a kiss.”

“From you,” Allison smirks.

Lydia is jumping out of the foot soaker and toweling her feet, “At least he’s on the lacrosse team.”

You blow out a breath and hope it calms the redness in your face. “It’s not like that. He’s…” you hesitate. “He’s a good friend.”

Allison grimaces, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

~~~

You wring your hands as you pace at the end of the hall, next to the vending machines. You wait for Andrew to leave his last class, the bell having just rung. It was eating at you thinking of a way to talk to him without hurting his feelings.

But there was no way around it – even if the dance was in two days, you weren’t going to continue playing with Andrew’s feelings.

The tall, dimpled boy comes out and sees you instantly. He smiles and jogs to reach you, excited to see you waiting.

Shit.

“Hey,” he gives you a hug and a kiss to the cheek, “How are you?”

You swallow hard, “I wanted to talk to you about something.” You pick and pull at your fingers, looking up at him with a face that scares him.

He furrows his brow, nodding his head toward the empty ceramics classroom. There weren’t any art classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. “Then let’s go talk.” He guides the way and opens the door for you.

You have a terrible guilty feeling in your stomach. You’ve never had to let someone down before.

Among the desks with spinning wheels dusted with dry clay, you stand in the middle of the room. “Andrew… I wanted to ask what you see between us… for the future.”

He still looks skeptical, but there’s a smile enveloping his face. “Well, I’ve liked how our dates have been so far. And I really like you, (Y/N).” His dimples are out full force, shadowed by the dim lighting. “I want to see where this goes. I think we could get serious. I’m – I’m looking for something serious. But… I want to hear what you have to say first.”

You pinch your fingertips, “Um… well I’m glad we’re having this talk.” You swallow thickly and the smile on Andrew’s face dips. “I… I’m not looking for something serious.”

“Oh,” Andrew says dryly. His face is in full shadow now. “I see, uh… have you always felt that way?”

You nod while you try to find your voice again. The look of hurt on his face was making the guilt in your stomach flare tenfold. “I don’t want a boyfriend in high school.”

He nods slower, looking to the ground. “I wish I knew that sooner.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I should’ve been more clear in the beginning. I thought we were just having some fun.”

“Fun,” he laughs sardonically. “No, I should’ve been more honest with what I was looking for.” His eyes were sad, but he put a smile on his face. “I’m glad you told me.”

You nod, desperate for his words. “I totally understand not wanting to see each other anymore…”

“That would probably be for the best,” he runs a hand through his curly hair.

“And… and we can go separately to the dance,” you say quickly, “I don’t mind.”

He looks at you with slight concern, “I don’t want you to go alone.”

“I have some friends I can go with.”

The room feels smaller, colder than you remember. It was an awful feeling telling someone you don’t like them in that way. You did not like hurting people.

Andrew was nodding to himself in agreement, “Then I hope you have a good time with your friends.”

He was being so kind to you when you felt you didn’t deserve it. It was your fault he was sad. Your fault that he didn’t have a date for the dance. Your fault that his feelings were being hurt now.

A stinging was building behind your eyes. “Thank you. I hope you do find someone to be serious with. You deserve it.” A lump builds in your throat, “You’re a good guy, Andrew.”

He sighs deeply, “I guess I’ll see you later then.”

“Sure,” you say quietly, voice being overtaken by emotion. And you’re left in the dark, cold room. Guilt eating at you and shame whispering terrible things in your ear. You almost wish he had blown up about it; yelled at you for not being completely honest in the beginning. It hurt worse hearing his quiet acceptance of the rejection.

You’re grateful the classroom is abandoned when a tear falls from your eye.

~~~

“Why didn’t you stop by Lydia’s house?” Stiles accuses, arms in the air, “That was prime time to overhear girl talk!”

“I wasn’t going to spy and eavesdrop,” Scott scolds, leading the way out of their last class of the day. “That wouldn’t be right when I still need to keep you and Jackson safe.”

Stiles rubs harshly at his face, silly noises of outrage spilling out, “But how else am I going to hear how (Y/N) feels about the whole jeep-makeout thing?!”

“I don’t know, talk to her?” Scott deadpans.

���Yeah, right,” Stiles scoffs, “I’m such an idiot. How else is she supposed to feel about it? She told me she doesn’t date seriously, and she told you how it happened with no feelings…” A white hot pain stabs his sternum, his heart roiling excruciatingly. “I just… I wanted it to be real.”

Scott sighs, pulling at his too long hair, “Listen, if she is seeing you in a friends with benefits kind of way, I don’t see why you can’t give it a shot.”

For a few moments Stiles dwells on the thought of having all the benefits of a relationship without commitment. It was tempting but... “I want more than that.”

“Wow,” Scott raises his eyebrows, “I’ve never heard such mature words leave your mouth before.”

“Shut up,” Stiles groans, “I just wish she’d talk to me!” He goes for one of the back doors by the vending machines, “She does this thing where she tells me the truth without the whole truth.”

“You mean with her heart?”

Stiles rubs hard at his eyes, “It’s got to be the reason for everything. I tried to get my dad to tell me about it and he pulled the ‘doctor-patient-confidentiality’ thing on me.” He grumbles, letting his backpack drop from his shoulders, “I’ve never… I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on like this.”

Scott sits on a hallway bench, watching his friend wallow in his self-pity and broken heart. “It starts out that way. But it gets easier.”

“What do you know about unrequited love, genius?” Stiles puts his hands on his hips, “You got to be Allison’s boyfriend with the dating and the kissing and the feeling her up…”

“Watch your mouth,” Scott points a finger.

Stiles slumps to the floor and against the stone wall. “And now we’re all targets in a major werewolf operation. How do you think the dance is going to go?”

“I don’t know. I’m still going to be there,” Scott says with a sad smile, “Even if Coach is up my ass.” He stands from the bench, “I should probably find a suit before my shift at the vet clinic.”

“Yeah,” Stiles mumbles, lifting a few fingers in a goodbye, “I’m gonna grab a snack before I go – see you later.”

It took another minute before Stiles could get off the ground. Thoughts of you swirling permanently there. The feel of your warm, soft skin. The pressure of your lips on his. The thrill of hearing you react to the things he was doing. He could still smell the sweet fruity scent of your hair, your lips sticky sweet with sugar.

Had it all been a dream? You sure acted like it with how the whole night was yet to be a topic of conversation.

But the feel of you, as dreamlike as it had been, was grounded in his mind like a chain to a wall. He would never forget how your head fell back, how your fingers went through his hair, how your lips fit so well between his own. Fit like a puzzle piece.

He thought that the kiss would lessen his ache of unrequited love – that he would have at least gotten a taste. But sitting there with the deep ache beating a little stronger in his chest – he knew it was going to be even more painful to be around you and not spout what he was feeling.

Like he told Scott, he wanted more. It was more than the sugar left on your lips. It was the way his dad smiled at the homecooked meal. The way he felt he could mention his mom around you. The fact that you were the first girl he could be alone with and not feel completely at a loss.

He rubs his forehead again, standing as though lead was in his stomach. He felt nauseous. It was making him sick how much he wanted you.

Then an empty classroom door swings open and Andrew Wickstrom walks out, head down and expression bleak.

He walks right out the back doors into the late afternoon light. And the slump in his shoulders made Stiles curious. All thoughts of a snack out of his mind, he stands, abandoning his backpack, and inches toward the empty classroom.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but seeing you standing there, holding yourself as tears fell from your eyes was not it.

The deep ache in his chest pulses like it yearns for you. Having you in his vision was enough to make the roiling in his heart pucker with hope. But the lead in his stomach becomes heavier as he pushes the door open.

“(Y/N)?”

You snap your wet eyes to him, “Stiles, what are you doing here?”

He continues to inch forward, eyes never leaving your face, “I was just going to stop by the vending machines before heading out.” He stops a few feet from you, “What happened?”

You sniff, wiping at your eyes that just continue to stream. “I told Andrew I don’t want anything serious.” Your brow is furrowed into permanent lines, face screwed up like it’ll stop whatever emotion is trying to get out. “And he was pretty hurt by it.”

Stiles takes another step forward, fingers twitching at his sides. Was it okay to touch you? “Andrew doesn’t seem like the type to get real upset by a breakup.”

“He was being so kind to me,” you hiccup as you continue to hold back, “And I was hurting him.”

“But you were being honest, which is better than leading him on,” Stiles says quietly. He’s now just a foot away from you.

“I’ve never had to turn someone away like that,” more tears were cascading down your face, much to your chagrin, “It did not feel good.”

Stiles lifts one of his hands, meaning to touch your shoulder, but you accept it as an invitation for a hug. He almost sighs in relief and wraps his arms around you tightly, keeping you pressed to him like it would staunch the ache in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your strawberry scented hair, “If it had to be with anyone, though – I’m glad that it was Wickstrom. He is a good guy.”

You sigh and it stutters with emotion, “It’s all my fault.” You nuzzle into his shoulder, “If I was braver I would’ve kept it going.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles was holding your waist with one hand and rubbing up and down your spine with the other.

“If I was braver, I’d get into a relationship.” You let the tears run from your cheeks and soak into Stiles’ shirt. “I’m a coward.”

Stiles runs his fingers down your back in a soothing motion, “It’s okay not to be ready for a relationship.”

“That’s not it,” you pull away, wiping at the tears making your skin itch. “I’m sorry, I’m talking nonsense.”

“No! No, wait…” Stiles was getting desperate, “You don’t have to stop there. (Y/N), I want to know what’s wrong. I want to know why. Please don’t brush it off like it’s nothing – I can see how it bothers you.”

You shake your head, trying to swallow past the lump in your throat. “Trust me, this is not the time and place for that conversation.”

Stiles pinches his lips together, finding it more difficult to be patient. “What could be so terrible that you avoid it this badly?”

There’s a heavy silence and you open your mouth like you’re about to say something. He can see it on the tip of your tongue, eyes shiny and cheeks raw. It looks painful for you to say it out loud. He feels instant regret for trying to force it out of you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, walking over to pull you into a quick, but firm, apology hug. “I’m sorry, I just want to help. I hate seeing you like this.”

You gulp, “I… I think I’ll be able to tell you soon. I just… right now with… it’s not the right time.”

He nods quickly, “I get it.” He puts some space between you, watching your face carefully, ready to catch you should your heart give out. He puts a thumb between your brows and wiggles it around like it’ll ease the tension enough to remove the lines of worry.

You melt a little, a smile curling the sides of your mouth, “I’m sorry you walked in on that.”

He shrugs, “I’m not sorry at all.”

You take a deep breath, remembering to fill your belly with it and not your chest. “I guess I’m going to the dance without a date now.”

There’s a leap in his chest and Stiles wonders if his heart was the one about to give out. “I can take you!” he says before you even finish your sentence.

You smile wide this time, “I probably shouldn’t go with another boy after just breaking things off with Andrew. I am going with Allison and Lydia, though.”

His leaping heart crash lands, “Sure, right – that makes sense.” He’s grateful for the dimly lit classroom keeping his embarrassment blush in shadow. “I’ll still be there though, for a dance or two.”

“I’d like that,” you grin, eyes bright but no longer tear-filled. “Could I get a ride?”

“Always.”

~~~

Melissa trades patient files with you at the newly refurbished nurses station. You exchange some words of note about certain patients on the floor. She reminds you to drink more water and you remind her to take a break.

She smiles at your avoidance, “How are the dance preparations going?”

You show her the shiny blue nail polish on your fingers.

She squeals and admires them, “Ah, I miss dances. And the dress?”

“Like starlight,” you breathe, taking a twirl around the hall, “But with flats because I am not venturing into battle in four-inch heels.”

Melissa sighs, “Dances are so much more fun with girls. Scott refuses to show me his suit and he’s never home anymore.” She leans against the counter, “I hope he’s okay.”

You give a thin smile, “He’s doing his best. With Allison and lacrosse and his grades… he’s doing his best. Trying to do more than that actually.”

“He expects a lot of himself,” Melissa nods. “I’m glad he has friends like you with him.” She checks her watch when she asks, “And the Andrew thing?”

“Over,” you shrug, a day after the breakup and still a little tender. “We wanted different things, and I thought it best not to drag it out.”

“Man, better than just ghosting him,” she says with a bitter tone, “How mature of you.”

You remember the terrible date she went on with Peter Hale. Jackass. “It was the right thing to do. And I’ll just save a few dances for my friends. It’ll still be a nice night.” You sit in a swivel chair, arms folded, “There’s no way I’m going to miss my chance to go to a school dance.”

Melissa gives you a soft, sad smile, “Well, kiddo – I’m off to make my rounds. Mr. Hendrickson has been calling my button for the last ten minutes. I swear I’m going to take his tv away if he keeps asking me how to change the channels.”

You laugh, saluting her off, and returning to the rest of your charting. You were just marking when you administered medications when a soft tap to your counter caught your attention.

Standing there was Scott and Stiles.

“Hello,” you say cheerfully, “How are my boys?”

Both lift their hands to reveal brown paper bags. Scott grins, “We might’ve brought you guys dinner?”

“Greasy takeout,” Stiles corrects, “But edible enough for dinner.”

You sigh, heart warmed, “Well, your mom just went into room 18 down the hall,” you point, “But we can take our break when she gets back.”

“No, I’ll wait for her,” Scott says quickly, already down the hall, “We’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Stiles shrugs at your look of suspicion, “Where do you usually eat?”

You lead Stiles from the elevators to the hospital cafeteria. There you find a round table by the windows to sit. It was dark outside with the perfect view of the moon over the mountains. Stiles seems a little uncomfortable as he follows you through the building.

He keeps looking behind his shoulder and peering into patient rooms with big eyes.

“Burgers and fries?” you ask hopefully.

Stiles lays the meal out on grease stained napkins, “Bon Appetit.”

You lean into him, “Thank you, I wasn’t planning on dinner tonight.” You start with your fries as he looks at you with contempt.

“Because that’s a great idea with your prone to fainting condition.”

“Why did you guys really stop by?” you always start with your fries, saving the main meal for last. You focus on them as Stiles thinks of something to say, eating his hamburger like it was his first meal in days.

He gives a funny half shrug, “Scott needed to check on his mom with his whole ‘patrolling-the-pack’ schedule. He asked if I wanted to come, and we came up with the excuse of getting us all dinner.”

“Brilliant,” you say, finding that the drink he brought was filled with your favorite soda. “Any news from the Alpha?”

“Not since you guys went dress shopping,” he wipes at his mouth with his sleeve. “Which, by the way, I would’ve loved to come to.”

“No you wouldn’t of,” you laugh, “Helping girls carry their dresses and waiting forever to critique every outfit with the same indifferent words… sounds terribly boring.”

He takes a deep breath as he downs his drink. “Sounds like fun. Helping you pick out a dress? I’d run out the red carpet so you could practice your model walk. We’d play montage music with different colored lights. We can make trying on dresses fun.”

“I don’t know how to model walk,” you giggle.

He nods in mock seriousness, “You just have to look like you’re about to sneeze and the thing you’re wearing is giving you a massive wedgie.” He moves his shoulders around in a pretend walking motion, his face slightly pinched like his nose was itching.

You were laughing by the time he coached you into making the same ridiculous face. Then he flinched when a group of resident doctors walked in loudly, ready for their dinner. He looks uncomfortable again, picking at his fries half-heartedly.

You consider him for a minute, “You don’t like hospitals, do you?”

He huffs a laugh, “What gave you that idea?”

“You’re being more twitchy than usual.”

He eyes you, “I’ve been here plenty of times, you haven’t made that observation before.”

“You’re really thinking about it today,” you press, “Is something wrong?”

He ticks his jaw, playing with his fries. “I used to eat in here a lot… when my mom was here.”

Your chest goes tight. Of course it has something to do with his mom, “Stiles, I’m…”

“My dad used to leave me here when he went to work,” he keeps going, “The nurses were all my friends, and I ate dinner in the cafeteria all the time. They would save an extra chocolate pudding for me sometimes.” He smiles in painful fondness, “I was alone when… when she…”

He couldn’t say it.

You scooch closer to him, letting him talk without you interrogating him. He looks at your eager expression with a soft smile, “She had frontotemporal dementia.” He leans closer to you subconsciously, enjoying the security he felt near you.

“It started with little things like she couldn’t pick up her keys and she wouldn’t sleep at night. Then she couldn’t function at her job, so she stayed home. Then she started to get… scary.” He takes a deep swallow, “She started seeing things – hallucinations – and became paranoid sometimes. We had to hospitalize her soon after that.”

You knew the symptoms of frontotemporal dementia. Some of the long-term patients at the hospital had dementia. But you let him continue to talk without your input. You could guess that he didn’t talk about his mom very often, especially her death.

You put a hand on his arm as silent support.

He takes a breath at your touch, “When I’d visit, I didn’t know if I’d see my mom or the patient dealing with dementia.” His eyes look a little glassy as he continues, “It was hard spending so much time here. I knew she wasn’t going to come home. And then one night when my dad was on call… it was just me at her bedside.”

You rub your thumb into his forearm, “How old were you?”

“Eight,” he says, sniffling as the emotion burns his throat. “Seeing her deteriorate that fast… it was awful.” His lip trembles, “That was my mom, you know?”

You move your arm around his back, resting your head on his shoulder. It was a hug you could give while sitting at a table. “I know.” You squeeze him tight, “It must’ve been horrible.”

His breathing was shaky, “It was,” he rubs roughly at his eyes, “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Not even Derek Hale.”

“What about Mr. Harris?”

He makes a considering face, a smile curling his lips. “Maybe.”

You pinch him, “That’s terrible.” You trail your fingers across his back, looking for more tears, “Why tell me?”

He watches you wipe away a tear before it reaches his chin, “Because I wanted you to know.” He shrugs, eyes a little redder, “I like you, and I trust you.”

You watch him with rosy cheeks. An immense feeling of pride was swelling in your chest. Stiles chose you, out of dozens of people, to talk about the death of his mom. A horribly sensitive subject for him. He had gone out of his way to be in an environment that reminded him of uncomfortable things to bring you dinner. He opened up to you and gave you a large part of his heart.

He was doing it partially to tell you things he wanted you to know – things you needed to know to be close to him – but also to partially tell you that it was okay to open up about horribly sensitive stuff.

He wanted to hear your story too.

But how could you now? You feel a pang in your chest. How could you explain to Stiles that you would reach a similar end before too long. An end like his moms.

~~~

Taglist: @assassinsasha23 @tasty-book-fans @lovelybaka @the-fandom-queen @runs-with-sciss0rs @iamaslytherin0 @n3muru @bethsvrse @taylorbrooke-0912 @iloveyou2mia @everrrsincenewyork @gisellesprettylies @dullypully @taylordaughter @greenoliveslover

[fandomnsfw]

That’s What Friend Are For - Peter Hale x Reader

Pairing: Peter x Reader

Prompt: Derek comes to you when he has concerns about Cora, Peter decides to tag along for his own amusement. Shopping, Seduction and Sexiness ensues!

Warnings: Explicit smut. BECAUSE I CAN! Muah! :* Love you guys! Enjoy!

****

You turned over in your bed, trying to get comfortable but having no luck. After being laid there for over an hour you gave up. You sat up with a huff opening your laptop you decided to scroll through Tumblr. You got bored after half an hour and decided to look at some NSFW posts. You tilted your head as you saw the first post, you stare at the girl who had stockings on, no panties and a lacy bra. Her hands were tied with black silk and he eyes were covered with the same material. The man was licking from her pussy to her ass. Gotta love Tumblr you thought, you bit your lip and continued scrolling, after about half an hour you decided to watch a film.

The next day as you were walking out of school you saw Peter and Derek stood by your car. You sighed and made my way over to them cautiously.

“What are you doing here?” I grunted as I threw my bag into my passenger seat. I took a look at Peter and he smiled softly making you blush slightly.

You’ve had a developed a crush on peter not long after the Darach. Well it was more than a crush because not only did you like him, your body craved him so badly it hurt but who wouldn’t have you seen that man you thought. Derek turn to you with a confused face.

“I have a personal question to ask?” Derek asked nervously making you brows furrow, you blush soon forgotten. You raised an eyebrow waiting for him to elaborate.

“What is NSFW? Cora got a notification through to her phone but there was one of them hashtag thing saying NSFW and when I tried to open it she freaked out and ran up to her room.” Derek genuinely looked concerned but Peter had a smug smirk on his face. Your jaw drop and your eyes blew wide as you tried to stutter out a lie but you knew he’d call me out on it.

“I-I think that something you should ask one of the boys. Like Stiles or Scott…” You swallowed and looked over at Peter and blushed, ducking your head before he could see.

“Can’t you just tell me?” Derek asked confused.

“Google it.” You huffed hiding your face behind your school books. You looked over the top of the books to see Derek with his phone out. OH MY GOD! You scream internally.

“YOUR GOOGLING IT NOW!?” You screeched your face turning a deeper shade of red, you dropped your books letting out a squeak.

“Why wouldn’t I? I need to kn-Is that porn?” Derek’s eyes went wide as he stared at his phone, Peter started laughing making Derek growl.

“You knew.” It wasn’t a question it was a fact.

“I may be old but I know what Tumblr is. Half of that site is pure filth.” Peter chuckled, his eyes drifting to you before smirking.

“If you knew why didn’t you tell me?” Derek snapped angrily.

“Because it was more fun this way.” Peter laughed as Derek stormed off to the Camaro, he turned to you then walked closer. He stopped directly in front of you when he bent down, his denim clad ass resting on the back of his heels. He looked up at you as he grabbed your books, he was right in front of your pussy probably able to smell the arousal rolling off you. You blushed and bit your lip as he slowly stood up so he was almost chest to chest with you. Your breath hitched as he leaned forward his lips brushing against your ear.

“See you later Y/N.” He whispered softly before handing your books to you and walking off.

You still hadn’t moved from your position, your legs felt weak. You could feel how he had affected you the evidence slowly soaking into your underwear. You let out a breath after five minute trying to calm myself down. He affected you in ways you’d never experienced, yet he hadn’t even done anything to you.

****

After getting home you decided to invited Lydia, Allison and Erica round for a sleep over. After turning 18 you left foster care and decided to buy a house with the money your deceased parents left you. It came in handy when the pack need a place to hang or plan for upcoming battles because there were no parents to deal with. Plus it made pack sleep overs easier. You ordered 2 large pizza’s and made sure you had popcorn and ice cream before hearing the door open and a bunch of chatter.

“So what was the reason for this ESR?” Lydia pursed her lips waiting for your response. ESR meant Emergency Sleepover Required. You guys had this code for whenever you needed each other.

“Peter Hale.” You huffed throwing myself on your king sized bed.

“You still haven’t made your move?” Erica laughed before flopping down next to you.

“He’s the sexy older bad boy! So no moves will ever be made.” You whined rolling over so you were on your back.

“What happened anyway?” Allison asked and she sat next to you.

“Derek came to asked me what NSFW meant. Peter was there and he knew exactly what it meant but didn’t speak up! God it was so embarrassing then he picked up my books that I dropped like a klutz but while he was down there, I almost died because he was about 15cm away from my goddam vagina!! When he started getting up he did it so slowly, I had dirty images flashing all up in my head! Then he whispered in my ear and I practically came in my pants!” You exclaimed my face flushed slightly as you spoke.

“Intense.” Lydia nodded, as she brushed through her hair.

“Seduce him.” Out of everyone you did not expect Allison to come out with this sentence and by the shocked faces neither did Erica or Lydia. You sent her with a questioning glance waiting for her to continue.

“Give yourself a makeover and seduce him.” Allison grinned her dimples appearing slowly.

“That’s actually not a bad idea. We could go shopping tomorrow!” Lydia added excitedly, her face glowing at the thought of shopping. Erica nodded in agreement before you sighed.

“Fine! Now enough about sexy older men! Pizza will be here soon.” You giggled and made your way downstairs.

For the rest of the night we enjoyed movies and ate to our hearts content. We gossiped about the boys and went to bed at quite early. When we woke up in the morning we decided to go for coffee at Starbucks before we went shopping.

You linked arms with Allison and Lydia did the same with Erica as you all made your way over to the first store. Coffee and credit cards in hand. Before long you had your arms filled with clothes to try on. You giggled as you made your way to the dressing room.

Your first outfit consisted of a suede, nude pink miniskirt, an off the shoulder white bodysuit and plain white peep toe heels.

You walked out and Erica wolf whistled at you making you chuckle. You did a little spin and Lydia looked at you as if something wasn’t sitting right with her.

“You need jewels.” Lydia finally spoke as she stood up and went to look at the jewellery section.

“A choker. Peter seem like the type to get turned on by something like that.” Erica snorted sarcastically before picking up a golden choker that curved round your neck but didn’t fasten. It also had a few gems in the middle making it look more feminine

“Oh yeah perfect! Next!” Lydia snapped clicking her fingers at you. You laughed and tried on the rest of the outfits by the time the last one came around you was tired but happy. You looked down at the last outfit and grinned. This was the one you had been looking forward to trying on since you started shopping. It was a pair of denim high waist skinnies, a long sleeved low cut black body suit, a maroon handbag and black ankle boots.

You wandered out the stall with a grin on your face the girls complimented you and told me you should wear this outfit today, you nodded and paid for everything. You linked with Erica and walked to the hairdressers. You told Lydia your hair was fine but she insisted on get a few high lights since it was summer. She also paid to get your makeup done making you sigh. You just hoped this worked otherwise all this money will have been wasted. Not that you don’t have money to blow but still as an ex foster child you know how hard life can be.

You looked at your freshly cut, washed and blow dried hair which had also been straightened, it looked nice your Y/H/C now felt brighter. You looked at your makeup, on your lips you wore a matte lipstick that was a similar color to your bag, and your eyes were a metallic brown in a smoky effect. It was all very dark but it looked perfect with your outfit.

“I called the boys and told them to meet us for lunch.” Lydia stated as you left the salon.

“Who’s coming?” You asked as you played with the ends of your freshly cut hair.

“Scott, Stiles, Jackson, Boyd, Derek, Isaac and Liam. Cory and Mason are on a date so they politely declined.” Lydia grinned then continued gushing on how cute mason and Cory were. You smiled as you saw the large table that contained the boys.

You sat down across from Stiles who was gawking, when you looked at the other boys they were gawking to except Derek, who just had wide eyes. You looked at Lydia with a panicked look thinking you looked bad. Before Lydia could open her mouth Stiles spoke up.

“I think I just popped a boner.” Everyone started laughing and you blushed slightly but chuckled as well. Derek glared at Stiles who quickly sat up straight.

“I mean…I love you Derek.” He grinned cheekily, before kissing Derek’s cheek telling him he was joking.

“Aww you guys are so cute!” You gushed resting your head on your hands. Derek blushed and mumbled something about not being cute. As each person looked at the menus you heard a throat clear making you look up to see Peter stood behind Derek. You blushed and looked back at your menu. You felt Allison nudge your knee with hers making you look at her. She motioned for you to sit up straight. You did as you were told and crossed my legs as you did so.

“Would you like to sit here Peter?” Allison asked politely as she got up to move.

“Thank you Allison.” Peter smirked and strolled over to the seat to your right. He sat down, his arms brushing against mine making you shiver involuntarily.

“You look nice Y/N.” He smirked down at you, his head resting on his left hand as he looked you up and down hungrily. Your thighs clenched as his voice reached your ears, shifting in your seat you looked at Erica for any kind of help. She smirked and motioned to your lips. You were confused at first but she bit her lips for emphasis making you nod lightly. You softly tucked my hair behind your ear and looked up at Peter.

“Thank you Peter.” You responded, your tone mildly flirty. You let out a soft giggle biting your lip lightly. His eyes immediately went to your lips, you watched as his jaw clenched his eyes narrowing slightly. You looked back to your menu before glancing up at Stiles who was smirking at you knowingly, you flushed and stared at him as he motioned to his phone. To anyone else it looked like he was just tapping his nails against his phone. You picked up my phone and looked at the new text you had.

Stile : In about five minute move your hair to left.

Me : Why

Stiles : Peter has a neck fetish.

Me : Not sure I wanna know how you know that. But Thanks babe.

You waited about five minutes after you ordered and moved your hair over your left shoulder and continued to Derek about how school. You glanced at Stiles whose eyes were presumably on Peter. He nearly laughed but quickly covered it up with cough. He looked at me and nodded slightly you giggled making Isaac and Derek look up at you. You quickly covered your mouth lightly. Making sure you didn’t smudge your lipstick.

“You know what I don’t wanna know.” Derek grunted before looking to the waiter who was slowly bringing out everyones food. You were halfway through your pasta salad when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. You took it out and looked at the new text.

Derek : ‘Accidentally’ bump your foot against his leg.

Derek : And if you ever tell anyone I gave you help on how to seduce my uncle I’ll rip your throat out…with my teeth.

You grinned at the texts and shot a moody looking Derek a thankful smile. He nodded and went back to eating as he listened to Stiles. You continued eating, when you all ordered coffee and cake you glanced at Peter who was talking to Jackson about something. You tuned in to the conversation and waited for the perfect opportunity.

“Yes but basketball is a man’s sport. Lacrosse…not so much.” Peter said as he drank his coffee.

“Yeah whatever older man.” Jackson snorted before kissing Lydia’s temple.

“I’m not th-” He didn’t finish his sentence because you brushed your foot against his calf. You continued to talk to Isaac about the new movie he wanted to see.

“You’re not what?” Jackson chuckled as he drank if iced coffee.

“He was going to say he’s not that old.” You smirked as you turned to the boys.

“Yes. I was.” He responded stiffly as your foot ran up his calf.

After dinner you all made our way to the parking lot, the girls and you got to Lydia’s car but you were stopped by a strained voice.

“I’ll drive Y/N home girls.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed at you not waiting for the girls to respond he walked over to his car. You followed after looking back at the smirking girls. You stopped at the car as Peter open the door for you. You smiled at him, thank him before getting into the car. The ride was silent and it crossed your mind that maybe your plan hadn’t worked. You looked out the window contemplating what went wrong by the time you arrived at yours, you had lost all your confidence. You plucked up the last bit of courage and turn to Peter who had dutifully walked you to your door.

“Would you like to come in for coffee?” You asked softly trying to appear confident. Peter nodded and followed you in but as soon as the door closed behind him you were thrown against it.

“Did you really think you’d get away with teasing me?” Peter growled, his nose touching yours. His lips less than 2 inches away, you stared at him wide eyed before realising your plan did work. You bit your lip letting out a little giggle.

“Oh this is funny is it?” He whispered against your lips, you shivered slightly but maintained your smile. You nodded and looked up at him through your lashes seductively.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” His body pressed against yours as his left hand made its way around your waist. You gasped as he spun you round. You reached out your hands automatically slamming against the door. He gripped your hips tightly pulling you against his apparently rock hard dick. You whimpered and pushed back into him. He groaned softly before moving his right hand up your torso agonizingly slow.

“P-Peter please…” You pleaded grinding you ass against his member.

“Please what baby? What does my little seductive Kitten want?” He whispered in your ear making you shiver. You leaned your head against his chest and spoke.

“Bed..” You moaned as his hands ghosted across your breasts before quickly continuing to your neck.

He turned you round and picked you up wrapping your legs around him. You looked into his eyes before smashing your lips against his. Your body melted against his as he licked and bit at your lips slowly working his tongue past your teeth. He explored every crease of your mouth, you were enjoying the kiss that much you barely registered you were on my bed. He pinned your hands above your head, working his way down your neck kissing and biting his way down to your breasts. He moved the material out the way and kissed your uncovered nipple before circling his tongue round it. You let out a soft moan as he moved his attention to the other, you dug your nails into his shoulders making him growl.

“Peter please…T-Too many clothes…” You whimpered clawing at his top.

“Okay Kitten let’s get rid of these clothes.” Peter responded softly trying to sooth you. After he removed both your clothes he stood and stared down at you, prompting you to quickly cover your pussy, embarrassed by the staring. Peter crawled onto the bed and eased your hands away.

“You’re beautiful Kitten you don’t need to hide anything from me.” He reassured and began to kiss down your stomach. You watched as he slowly made his way to my bare pussy. He spread your legs further making you blush. His hot breath fanned across me causing you to whimper in anticipation. Your hands gripped the sheets beneath as he finally pulled your lips gently apart and took an experimental lick.

“God you taste amazing..” He purred as he finally began attack your pussy with soft nibbles and licks. You bit lip painfully trying to hold back my moans. His tongue pushed into you slightly and you lost it you couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“Oh god…P-Peter Mmm..Fuck!” You screamed, your hand making their way to his hair tugging at it slightly. He pulled away and grinned at you like you were his prey.

“Do you wanna cum now or do you want me to fuck your orgasm out of you Kitten?” He whispered against your pussy making your back arch slightly.

“W-Want you to fuck it out of me…P-Please?” I knew I sound desperate begging like a child who wanted more candy but I had waited too long for this to happen.

“Okay baby don’t worry…I’ll take care of you.” He got off the bed after giving you a kiss on the forehead, he made his way to his jeans and took out his wallet. He rummaged through it and quickly pulled out a condom. He knelt back on the bed about to open it when you whined grabbing his attention. You shook your head and he look at you uncertain for a second.

“I’m on the pill…I-I wanna feel a-all of you…” You bit my lip hoping he’d agree, you’d waited too long for this and you didn’t want that barrier.

“Okay Kitten…I want you to tell me it I get to rough okay. I don’t wanna hurt you.” However the idea of Peter getting rough only served to turn you on more but you nodded anyway and spread your legs in invitation making him groan as he fisted his cock. Dear god he was big at least 9 inches, it made you wonder if he would fit.

He crawled over to you pressing a passionate yet sweet kiss to your lips before nudging your entrance. You let out a little sob thrusting upwards making his tip push in, he growled before slamming in the rest of the way with a firm thrust. You screamed out in pain and pleasure, burying your head into his shoulder, clinging to him like he was your life line. After a minute I felt the pain subside, you wiggled your hips experimentally. You whimpered and thrust up once again this time with more force.

“S-Shit Y/N don’t do that.” He groaned.

“Jesus Kitten you feel so good.” Peter added his jaw clench it restraint. After calming down a little he decidedly took control of the situation, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back into you roughly. Your nails dug into his bare back making his thrust before faster.

“Oh s-shit! Faster..” You screamed as he sucked a bruise into your neck, his growls getting slightly more feral which only served to bring you closer to your end. You felt the pit in your stomach making you pull back and look into Peter’s eyes.

“P-Peter…so close…” You whimpered your eyes tearing up from the amount of pleasure you were feeling.

“M-Me too Kitten.” He panted softly his right hand intertwining with yours, he leant down and kissed you with so much emotion, you felt your stomach coil tighter and you moaned against his lips. He pulled back and whispered in your ear.

“Cum for me Kitten.” Everything unravelled, his name leaving your lips as you fell over the edge.

“Fuck…Y/N!” Peter growled into your ear as he followed moments after.

After a few minutes of panting and gathering ourselves Peter pulled out and got off the bed and grabbed his boxers. You looked over at him realising he was about to leave, your eyes starting watering, a tiny barely audible whine escaped your lips which made him turn round faster than you’d ever seen him move. He looked at you with worry in his eyes.

“Hey, baby what the matter?” He questioned urgently his voice softer than you’d ever heard. He got back onto the bed and took your face in his hands, wiping away the tears.

“Y-You’re leaving…” I sniffled.

“Woah Y/N I’m not leaving honey. I’m going to get a cloth to clean you up then get you a drink.” He said softly making you look him into his eyes.

“R-Really?” You asked hopefully trying to blink the tears away.

“I promise now wait here and I’ll be back okay.” He kissed your lips softly before moving and going to get what he needed.

After he’d wiped to down and given you a drink of water he rummaged through your drawers and found you a pair of comfortable undies then passed them too you along with the V neck he was wearing before. You smiled softly as he got into bed and pulled your body against his. You stared out the window at the stars.

“Goodnight Kitten.” You heard Peter whispered behind your ear.

“Night Peter.” You responded before letting your eyes drift closed happier than you’d been in forever,

That’s what Friends are for.

[specialagentlokitty]

Chris Argent x reader - getting along

Hey i was wondering if you can do one of Chris Argent were he’s is married with Derek aunt Peter sister and she is pregnant. Tank’s and I love how you right - @valeradriana💜

Sitting in the table, you began flicking through some of the papers on the desk.

“Nope.”

Tossing them aside, you picked up the next set of papers, mumbling to yourself.

“Throwing my papers around isn’t a great pastime you know.”

Smiling, you set them down and held out your arms for your husband to come over and gently hug you.

“Hey sweetheart..” you whispered.

Resting your head on Chris’ chest, wrapping your arms around his waist to hold him in place.

“Where have you been?” You asked.

“Helping your nephew with some research.”

You hummed, nodding your head as you pulled away from him.

Reaching up, you placed your hands on the sides of his face, pulling him down for a gentle kiss before you pulled away.

Laughing a little, Chris smiled at you, sitting next to you on the desk as he took the papers from your hand.

“You know nobody is going to let you leave the town right?”

“I know, but I’m just so bored.” You grumbled.

“Well, you’re supposed to be in bed rest anyways.”

You rolled your eyes a little bit.

“I’m pregnant Chris, I don’t have a broken leg.”

He chuckled.

“I know darling, but it’s just for both yours and the baby’s sake, it’s only for another week anyways then you can get out again.”

“I want to go out now.”

Chris looked at you.

“Where?”

“I don’t know, how about seeing Derek and Peter?”

Chris smiled, nodding his head as he went to get your shoes and jacket for you.

He wasn’t one to tell you no to things, and if you wanted to go and see your family then he was going to take you there.

He helped you up the stairs to the loft, and opened the door for you.

“Derek hale!” You yelled.

He spun around, dropping the papers in his hands.

“I haven’t done anything!”

Laughing, you walked over to gently hug him.

“I know, it’s just fun to scare you.”

Derek hugged you back, clearing the teenage pack from his couch so you could sit down on it.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed rest?” Lydia asked.

“Yup, but I was bored so here I am. Also I want a word with my brother, where is he?”

“He’s here.” Peter said.

He walked over and you stood up to be in front of him, then you reached up so you could smack the back of his head.

“What the hell?!”

“You want to put these kids in danger?!” You yelled at him.

Your eyes flashed Red, and Peter shuffled back a little bit.

“Need I remind I am the alpha of my own pack and I will kick your little ass if you so much put a scratch in one of these teenagers I will bury you so far deep in this forest.”

You placed a hand on your stomach, and Peter walked over, easing you back into sitting down.

“I’m not doing anything, if anything I’m trying timo keep out of all this mess.”

“So it wasn’t your idea to send them into the lions den?”

Peter took a step away from you.

“Okay it was.”

You went to stand up.

“But for a good reason!”

You narrowed your eyes at your brother.

“The hunters know Derek, Chris and I, they don’t know about Scott or his little pack.”

You looked at him.

“We’ve got it all planned out really.” Scott said.

You raised your hand to him, looking at Peter and Derek.

“You’ve done some stupid ass things you two, but you can’t be throwing these kids in the middle of all of this.”

“Well, we’re already in the middle of it.”

“Stiles shush.”

He nodded at you.

“I’m expecting a baby, I don’t need to babysitting my own brother and nephew because they’re being morons.”

“Then don’t.” Peter snapped.

“Remember who pushed you down the stairs as a kid because I will gladly do it again Peter Hale. Figure out s new plan because if I find out you’ve endangered them again I swear to god you’ll have hell rained down on you.”

“Alright! Okay!” Peter huffed.

He glanced at Chris.

“You aren’t going to stop her?”

Chris shook his head.

“My wife is a free woman Peter.”

“Hey, you’re not off the hook either Chris Argent.”

He backed away towards the door.

“Run!” Derek yelled.

The three men quickly left the loft to escape your anger, and you were left Scott and his pack.

“Thank you (Y/N).” Lydia smiled.

“No problem, now, can someone please take me to get something to eat my husband ran away.”

“I’ll drive you, we’re actually just leaving anyway.” Stiles said.

You grinned a little and got up, you weren’t actually angry with Chris, but sometimes it was fun to watch him run off with the other two because you knew they would hide out together and talk.

It was helping them get along more than what they used to considering you were from a werewolf family and you were married to a hunter

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

🐺 Old Flames: Chapter Three

Old Flames: Juniper Camden died, but now she is back. After being revived by the supernaturals of Beacon Hills, Juniper is in for a heartbreaking whirlwind of ‘What the Hell Do I Do Now?’. Her boyfriend has twenty five years on her and a family of his own, she was declared dead years prior, and yet June still looks like the twenty year old she was before she disappeared. What is a girl to do? Avoid Christopher Argent at all costs.

Warnings: Peril, Blood, Angst.

To Note: Chris Argent x NAMED!FemReader.

Word Count: ~5.3k

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You would be trembling where you lay, if you could feel your body that is. Whatever venom the Kanima had laced in its tail and claws worked fast, super fast, because you could no longer feel any part of your body and no matter how hard you tried, none of your limbs responded to your mental commands. You really were stuck.

At least you were still breathing though. The Kanima’s rage of pain quieted, and your heart sped up in your chest again as your ear picked up its movement. The creature, while light footed, was most certainly not happy that you had taken a swing at its head, and you could feel its rage as it stood over you, a hiss building in its chest.

But your luck, as it were, had not completely run out, because one moment you were waiting for it to hit you again, or deliver a finishing blow, and the next it was flying through the air with a disgruntled screech. You heard the sound of it hitting what had to be a tree, and then its roar of pain. There were a few more hisses from the Kanima and just as it had appeared in front of you, it’s sounds disappeared.

Boots crunched on leaves and moss and soon enough someone was crouching down in front of your prone and paralyzed body. Flinching as a hand entered your vision, your head was gently turned so you could see who your rescuer was.

“You have got to be kidding me.” You mumbled underneath your breath as he flashed a smirk down at you.

“Long time no see, Junie,” If you had the facial muscle control to do so, you would have scowled at Peter as he lifted your limp body from the cold ground. “You know, I would have thought that you would’ve had a little more self preservation than this after everything that happened to you.”

God, you wanted to smack him so bad right now.

“She’s just a teenager, Peter,” You huffed from where your head lolled against his shoulder. “And my quick and not so thought out plan wasn’t that bad of an idea. It got confused.”

“Yeah, it got confused, but then you had to go and piss it off,” Peter snorted back as he started walking. “It has your scent now, Juniper, which makes you a target.”

“I was already a target, Peter, have been since the Mendoza’s took me.” You said tiredly. “And it’s not like I have people at home worrying about my safety.”

“I’d say that you did it because she’s your boyfriend’s daughter… but you were already a bleeding heart long before you were put to sleep.”

“You can’t deny that it wasn’t a smart idea, though,” You snipped back, your eyes staring at the buttons of his loose jacket.

“No, it was clever, confusing it with two trails of Allison’s scent, but you still painted a big target on your back and I highly doubt your boyfriend will be happy with you.” Your heart throbbed in pain, that you could feel, a sense of that deep rooted yearning you had been drowning in at the Martin house.

“He’s not my boyfriend, Peter,” You answered softly, closing your tired eyes. “And people need to stop referring to him like that. He hasn’t been mine for years, decades.” Luckily for you, Peter didn’t make a smart ass reply.

Back on the edge of the preserve, Scott, Derek, Jordan, and Chris were gathered, listening to Allison explain what had happened.

“… which ended with her forcing me to switch jackets with her. That’s the last I saw of her.” Chris let out a sigh and rubbed his forehead while Jordan put his hands on his hips and looked into the dark forest.

“So you’re saying we’ve got a forty five year old, who just woke up from a twenty five year magical coma… running around the Preserve in the middle of the night with a Kanima chasing her?” Jordan repeated, trying to wrap his head around what the teenager had said. Allison shifted where she stood.

“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds terrible… but Juniper said she knew the preserve like the back of her hand… and have you tried arguing with her? She’s kind of scary.” Jordan let out a deep breath as Derek joined in on the conversation.

“What was she doing out here in the first place?” Derek asked, crossing his arms with his usual scowl. His eyes flickered to Chris. “She looks like she couldn’t even swat a fly.”

“She said she could’t sleep so she was clearing her mind.” Allison said before fishing out the iPod from Juniper’s coat pocket. She looked at it before holding it up. “She’s been taking a lot of walks. Dad, I really think that you—”

Allison cut herself off when Derek and Scott snapped their heads to the side. Peter was emerging from the dark woods with a limp body in his arms. For a moment, Chris felt his heart stop in his chest, but then the highly annoyed voice of one Juniper Camden echoed through the misty night.

“If I wasn’t paralyzed, I’d be slapping the shit out of you right now, Hale.” Juniper snapped out, much to Peter’s amusement. “I am not above kicking your ass now that you’re an adult.”

“How about you get the feeling back in your body first, Junie,” A growl rumbled in the back of Juniper’s throat and from where he stood, Derek sighed.

“Peter, stop antagonizing Juniper,” He sighed out as his uncle approached them.

“I got blood on your coat, Allison, sorry,” Juniper said as the four of them took stock of the damage Juniper had taken.

“Shit, Juniper,” Allison breathed when it became apparent exactly how Juniper had gotten poisoned by the Kanima. On her left thigh was a full set of parallel scratches, revealed through torn jean. Her chin wasn’t looked good either, mud and blood had smeared down her neck and the open wound was still dribbling blood. “What happened!?”

“I… may or may not… have pissed off the Kanima,” Juniper announced vaguely.

“And what exactly do you mean by ‘pissed off the Kanima’?” Chris asked, crossing his arms and giving Juniper a stern look. She didn’t even bother to shift her eyes to look at the scowling Argent, choosing to remain silent.

“Let’s just say the Kanima won’t be seeing out of its left eye any time soon, she gave it a good wallop with a rock.” Peter explained. “It was rather impressive.”

“You gave it a good wallop?” Derek repeated, a snort coming from his nose.

“I’m not entirely defenseless and I don’t appreciate reptilian creatures breathing over me with razor sharp teeth in range of my neck.” Juniper said shortly. “Now I am cold, wet, and covered in mud. No way am I going back to the Martin house looking like this, Lydia’s mom will freak.”

“My mom can stitch you up at my house,” Scott spoke up. “I’ll give her a call.”

While Scott was calling his mothers cell to give her the heads up, Juniper could feel the heated gaze of one Christopher Argent on her body, despite being paralyzed. Once again she chose the cowards way out and pretended that he didn’t exist.

It still hurt too much to even look at him.

You were laying on the McCall kitchen island, still paralyzed, but you were down to your t-shirt and underwear while Melissa cleaned up the dirt and mud from your skin. The cleaned half of your body was covered with a blanket to keep you warm, but your left leg was still uncovered and in the process of being cleaned up and stitched.

“I’d yell at you, but considering that you and I are close in age, I won’t.” Melissa said dryly as she wiped blood and mud from your neck. A soft snort slipped passed your lips before you sighed and quietly responded.

“Allison’s still got her whole life in front of her.” Melissa’s eyebrow rose.

“And you don’t?”

“I’m still trying to get my feet under me, let alone stand straight.”

“You still got plenty of years left, you can start again.” You didn’t want to start again. You wanted to go back to your safe and happy life. “Juniper, you’ve been dealing with your situation pretty well, but you aren’t addressing the elephant in the room. Actually, I’m pretty sure you are avoiding it… well, him.”

“What elephant?” You mumbled. She snorted at you and gave you a look.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” She was correct, you knew exactly what elephant she was speaking of, but you didn’t want to even think about it—him.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You said as Melissa pulled a syringe out and drew medication from a little bottle.

“You’ll need to at some point.”

“Not right now,” You persisted. Melissa sighed and shook her head before looking down at the supplies she had laid out on the kitchen counter across from the island.

“Fine, I’ll drop it, for now,” She said, turning back to you and dabbing at your oozing thigh. “I’m going to give you an injection to prevent you from feeling pain, it’ll make you sleepy and you’ll be out of it for a few hours.”

“I still can’t feel anything…” You pointed out, her eyebrow popped up.

“But you will be, this’ll will stop your body from going into shock when the paralysis wears off.” Melissa explained as she gave you the shot.

From there, Melissa started methodically stitching your skin back together. You couldn’t even feel the tugging on your skin as it was pulled closed, the venom was that powerful. Like she said, you started feeling sleepy, and eventually it felt like you were floating in the clouds.

For the first time since you had woken up, you didn’t feel like the weight of your heart was trying to drive you into the ground.

“Juniper?” A voice asked.

“Hmm?”

“How do you feel? You in any pain?” The voice sounded concerned.

“I’m floating,” You murmured to the voice, your eyelids fluttering up at the darkened ceiling over head. “Sky’s dark though, I think the moon went missing…”

“She is really out of it…” Another voice, a haunting familiar one, echoed.

“Medication I gave her does that, she’ll need to be watched until it is out of her system. We don’t need her wandering off while she is high as a kite…”

“I can’t fly,” You helpfully interjected. “So you don’t need to worry about me flying as high as a kite. Plus, it’s kind of dark for flying anyways…”

There was a snort of laughter and you received a pat on my shoulder.

“Good to know, Juniper… anyways Chris, I think you two really need to talk things out, because at this rate, she is just going to continue avoiding you like you’re avoiding her, and you are going to drive yourself mad listening to Allison talk about everything they’re doing together. Neither of you are handling this very well.”

“How exactly are we supposed to handle this, Melissa? This isn’t exactly an everyday occurrence and there isn’t a handbook on what to do when the girlfriend you thought died twenty-five years earlier, turns up alive and not having aged a day. I’m in my forties and she’s got her whole life ahead of her.”

“Seduce her!” You exclaimed loudly, trying to swing an arm up in emphasis. Your arm stayed in place, still paralyzed so you continued speaking. “Silver foxes are ho—“ You were cut off when a hand covered your mouth.

“This isn’t a conversation I need to be having while we’re dealing with a Kanima and a rogue pack, let alone after Juniper’s had her thigh scratched open.”

“Yoo shwyud toattwy dwate hwer.” You tried adding, despite the hand still covering your mouth.

“Is she usually this chatty under anesthesia? Because I am getting the feeling that this isn’t the first time you’ve had to shut her up.” A deep indentured sigh echoed in the kitchen.

“This is mild compared to when she had her wisdom teeth taken out… How long does she have until the meds are out her system?”

“It’ll be out by morning, she should sleep it off.”

There was a deep throbbing sensation in your thigh that roused you from a dreamless sleep. Shifting where you lay, your face scrunched while you slowly stretched out your aching and very stiff body. Sharp pain ran up the side of your leg and you froze in place, gasping slightly in surprise. Opening your eyes you stared up at unfamiliar ceiling as your hand searched beneath the blanket covering your body for the source of your pain.

Your fingertips brushed fabric wrapped around your thigh and it came back to you. Walking the Preserve. The Kanima. Allison. Allison. Grunting, you lurched into an upright position and looked around for a sign of where you were. You still didn’t recognize where you were, but at least one of your last memories rattling around in your brain was that Allison was safe.

Letting out a breath, you ran a hand through your hair and looked down at the large shirt you was wearing. Tugging on the soft material, faint memories of your jeans being cut from your body surfaced along with flickered of images where your shirt had gotten blood on it. Mellissa wouldn’t allow you to continue wearing bloody clothes, so someone had changed you.

You grimaced as your leg ached against and shifted on the couch you had been laid out on, pulling yourself into a sitting position. Your hair fell over your shoulder in a tangled mess and while you were wracking your brain on the foggier memories, a door opened and closed.

Allison appeared and for a millisecond you felt fine, but then he appeared too and you were freezing in place, your eyes going round. While you gripped the edge of the blanket covering you in a death grip, Allison’s face brightened up in the corner of your eye. But you were not really paying attention to Allison, your attention was completely taken by the blue eyed man who was currently staring back at you.

Twenty five years and those blue eyes were exactly as you remembered. Warm and gentle, homely, and beautiful. He was older but still just as you remembered and loved.

“You’re up!” Allison said brightly. “How’re you feeling? Those scratches looked really nasty and by the number of stitches Mrs. McCall had to put in… I can only imagine the ache.”

You blinked rapidly and managed to tear your gave from Chris’s to look at Allison. You gave her a meek nod and dropped your eyes to your lap.

“I’d ask where my jeans are, but I distinctly remember Mellissa cutting them up before things go foggy,” You murmured, curling your fingers into the blanket. “As for my shirt…”

“Yeah, the blood kind of ruined it to the point of not being salvageable. Sorry.” Allison stated happily as she trotted over. “She also told me to tell you no more midnight walks while there is a Kanima on the loose… or in general since it’s not safe.”

You snorted and looked away, choosing to observe a bookshelf and its contents.

“Something tells me I won’t be doing my normal walks anytime soon anyways.” You said softly before pulling back the blanket to reveal your bandage wrapped thigh. “So… what’s the verdict?”

“I’d tell you, but dad and Mrs. McCall kicked everyone out… so I don’t really know anything at this point.” She explained with a shrug.

“Then why am I here?” You questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Because you needed to be watched and your stitches checked when you woke up.” Your teeth sank into your lower lip at his voice getting closer, and tentatively sneaking a glance up, you saw that Chris was holding a box with a Red Cross on it. “You’ve still got class this morning, Allison, scoot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Allison replied, rolling her eyes and rising to her feet. She gave you a small smile. “I’ll update Lydia on your situation, you’ve got all our cell numbers so text if you need anything.”

“And I am still slow at texting,” You muttered back to her, slumping in place. “Weird technology in such a little device…” Allison walked to where her backpack leaned against a wall and picking it up, she grabbed her car keys off a nearby table. From there she was hurrying out of the apartment leaving you alone with the one man you had been trying so hard to avoid.

Chris sat down on the edge of the coffee table next to where you were laid out and opened the first aid kit, pulling out several gauze pads and antiseptic wipes before setting them aside. All while he was doing this, you tried to keep your gaze straight.

“I’m going to need you sling your leg over my knees, unless you want to lay on my kitchen island…” Pulling the blanket from your left leg, you carefully scooted over to the edge of the sofa and tried to raise your leg to do as he asked. You over estimated your ability to lift your injured thigh and hissed as pain burned across your skin. Chris was immediately sliding his hand underneath your trembling thigh and doing the lifting for you, placing your leg across his knees at an angle so he could reach the wrapped stitches. “Easy, Melissa said your body might take some time to realize that it’s been injured.”

“Well, I’m certainly feeling it,” You snipped beneath your breath before slumping back and staring at the ceiling. “Is there anything else in this town that might potentially kill me while I’m taking a walk? The local vampire perhaps?” 

“Most of the creatures here just want to live in peace,” Chris explained as he gently began to unwrap the ACE wrap from your thigh. It took everything you had not to sigh as fingertips brushed against your bare skin. “But you shouldn’t take walks in the middle of the night in the first place, it’s not safe. What were you even doing out there?”

“Clearing my head,” You vaguely answered. He wasn’t satisfied with your answer, you knew that, but he didn’t say anything as he finished taking the ACE wrap off. Chris’s fingers gently peeled the taped gauze covering the stitched wounds, revealing the diagonal lines neatly stitched shut. You had been unlucky enough to get scratched by all five claws and the evidence would forever be etched onto your skin in five diagonal lines. The skin around the area looked red and angry, but at least didn’t look like it was infected. Chris grabbed an alcohol pad and carefully ran it along your skin, occasionally pressing his fingers into your skin.

“Can you feel me pressing?” He asked, his finger tips gliding over your skin. Shivers were going up your spine from his touch alone. You gave him a short nod before looking away once more. There wasn’t much more said or exchanged between the two of you. Once your stitches were all checked, Chris rewrapped your thigh. “I’m sure Allison’s got some sweatpants around somewhere.”

Chris carefully moved your leg back to the couch and rose from the coffee table. While he was hunting down a pair of sweatpants for you to wear, you stared at your rewrapped thigh. You could still feel his gentle touch brushing against your skin, and that made old memories of when his touch wasn’t gentle, but hungry. Fingertips digging into your skin, palms wrapping around your thighs, body pressed against yours…

You dug the heel of your palms into your eyes and willed the images to leave your mind. Why did your brain have to keep torturing you like this? Hadn’t you hurt enough already? Your eyes started burning with unshed tears. You sunk your teeth into your lower lip and bit down hard, hoping physical pain would stop the prickling of tears. It worked, sort of, because by the time Chris walked back into the room, sweatpants in hand, the only evidence of your upset was a sniff.

“Juniper?” Chris asked, a frown now on his face. “Are you in pain?”

“I’m fine,” You stated flatly, holding out your hand for the sweatpants. You wanted out. Now. It was suffocating just being in his presence.

He wasn’t happy with your flat answer but let your snatch the sweatpants from him. Sitting up on the couch, you grimaced your way through pulling the sweatpants on and started looking around for anything else that was yours. More specifically, your iPod. You couldn’t find it, and panic started to rise in your chest.

“Looking for this?” Momentarily freezing where you stood, you turned to Chris to see him holding out the little iPod, the headphones neatly wrapped around it. You snatched it out of his grasp and clutched it to your chest like it was your lifeline.

“Am I to assume that you are my ride home?” You questioned, your fingers rotating the iPod in your hands nervously.

“Well you aren’t walking home, not on that leg.” It was going to be a long car ride to the Martin house.

“You’re avoiding him.” You glanced up from the kitchen counter to look at Lydia. Concern was plastered across her face.

“I’m avoiding who?” You questioned her, feigning ignorance. Lydia rolled her eyes and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

“You know exactly who I’m talking about, Juniper.” She stated, drumming her manicured nails on the granite. “I also know for a fact that you barely talked to him when you spent the night at the Argent apartment, and haven’t said a word to him since then. It’s been three weeks.”

“I fail to see why I need to talk to him. Or be around him in general.” You huffed drolly. “ Why are you nitpicking my social life?”

“Because you are becoming even more reclusive, Juniper, and I care about you.” Hunching where you sat, you stared at the countertop and remained silent. You didn’t have much to say to that, You were avoiding going out, and people in general. “You know I won’t tell the others anything you say, right? You have my complete confidentiality.”

You sunk your teeth into your lip and sat in your turmoil of thoughts, feeling the need to burst into tears again. Holding onto your true feelings about your current state was dragging you down. You felt like weights had been attached to your ankles.

“I don’t think I can get over him.” You spoke softly, twisting your fingers together. “I just want my life back where I felt safe and comfortable, happy. Now, now I just feel empty. What’s the purpose of my life? What was the purpose of waking me up?”

Looking up at Lydia, you saw that her look had softened.

“Everyday it only hurts more and I don’t know how to make it stop.” Your voice dropped to a dead whisper and your lips wobbled. “God, I feel so pathetic and weak.”

“That’s not weak or pathetic, it’s called heartbreak.” Lydia said gently. “And they woke you up because they thought it was the right thing to do, it is the right thing to do. No matter how much you’re hurting. You can’t sleep forever.”

“Even if it meant not feeling like someone ripped my heart out with a fork?”

“You still have your whole life ahead of you, Juniper, that’s why they woke you up. Are you going to let this be the reason you don’t find happiness again?” Lydia asked, waving her hand. “The Juniper I’ve gotten to know doesn’t seem the type to be defeated by heartbreak.”

“I don’t know how to be happy without him.” You answered with a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t know how to be me without him.”

“Who says you have to?” She pointed out. “You’re the one pushing him away. Granted he’s not chasing after you… but I get the feeling he’s trying to give you the best chance you have at a normal life. That means keeping you out of the supernatural business, keeping you out of his life.”

“I don’t want a normal life, I want him.”

“Have you told him that?”

“What do you think?” You retorted, planting your elbow on the counter and dropping your chin into your hand. “I can’t even look him in the face.”

“Well then we need to come up with a plan.” Lydia said frankly, putting her hands on her hips. “Because I am not going to allow my new best friend to remain heartbroken.”

“Come up with—“ You were interrupted by the sounds of the Martin front door bursting open. Lydia and you turned your heads to see Allison out of breath with Stiles hot on her heels.

“We’ve got a big problem!” Allison burst out. “The other pack, they came to have a negotiation which my dad was helping with, but instead of the pack showing up a group of hunters did. Isaac has a bullet in him and they won’t let anyone near him until a deal is negotiated for the McCall pack to leave Beacon Hills.”

“And you came to me for?” Lydia asked in confusion.

“We didn’t come for you, no offense Lydia.” Stiles interjected before turning his eyes to you. “We came for her.”

“Me?” You questioned in confusion. “Why me?”

“You dated my dad, surely you know something that will help. We think it has to do with Gerard, you worked with him so you know him better.” Allison explained in a rush.

“We also panicked and you’re kind of an adult so…” Stiles added before getting elbowed by Allison. “What? I’m not wrong… we’re gonna get yelled at, at least with Juniper we can say we had adult supervision…”

“Pretty sure that still doesn’t count since I spent twenty five years of my life asleep.” You sighed, rubbing your forehead. What could you do? You had spent plenty of time learning all about Gerard’s true colors from the Hale’s. He was vicious man, you knew that from your own experience, and the only thing that would solve this would be to be just as cutthroat if they were sent by Gerard. “He’s your grandfather, Allison. And if Chris is there, everything will be handled.”

“Yeah but I don’t know him that well.” Allison pointed out. “And he and dad have not been getting along since Dad started enforcing the ‘we don’t kill those that do no harm’ rule. They’ll be at each other throats soon. Well, I think they already are.”

They were at a cross roads, hunter on hunter, with teenage supernaturals stuck in the middle. You sighed.

“Allison, does your father keep an armory in your apartment?” You asked. Allison frowned for a moment before responding.

“Yes, but he keeps the guns and hunting equipment locked up.” Another barrier. You heaved a breath and rubbed your forehead again.

“It’s a start. Let me get changed.”

After you had changed out of lounge clothes and into jeans and sturdy shirt with a jacket, Allison had brought the four of you to the Argent apartment. From there she let you into the makeshift armory.

“Like I said, everything we’d need is here, but I don’t have the codes for most it.” She said as you looked around. Your eyes brushed over heavy metal boxes that no doubt housed weaponry appropriate for hunting. Most of the boxes looked relatively new and had complex locks, you wouldn’t be getting into them. This wasn’t unusual for the Argents to have since Chris was the son of the of Argent Arms International creator.

Then you spotted it.

A small smile started creeping on your face and walking over to a workbench, you crouched down and grabbed the handle on the side of the older container. You hefted it out from under the bench and maneuvered it onto the workbench top.

“I’ve seen that box before, dad always kept it around, but I’ve never seen him actually open it so I don’t know what’s inside it.” Allison said as you picked up the lock and looked at the five number scrolls.

“That’s because,” You said, your finger swirling the little dials until you had the right number combination. “This isn’t his.”

Pulling on the lock, the locking mechanisms released with a click. Setting the lock aside, you grabbed the lid and pushed it open to reveal the two desert eagle hand guns you had.

“Oh come on, Chris,” You grumbled out in disappointment. “Twenty five years and you still haven’t changed the code?”

“Holy shit,” Stiles muttered as you reached for one of the desert eagles and held it in your hand, rotating it and getting used to the feel once more.

“I’ve learned a thing or two from your father.” You spoke up, glancing at Allison before seeing a flash of silver in the corner of your eye. Setting the hand gun back in its respective place, you dug your fingers into the case until they found the object and pulled it out. The silver necklace Chris had given you all those years ago glittered back at you. “I was wondering where you went.”

Rotating the silver necklace in your fingers, you were deaf to Lydia approaching.

“That looks pretty,” She said. “Silver?”

“Argentium, actually.” You spoke. “It has more pure silver in it than regular. Christopher got it for me for graduation after we agreed to wait on getting married.”

“All Argent’s get an Argentium piece at some point in their life.” Allison explained as she slowly strapped her quiver to her back. “Right of passage I think, I got mine after my first test. You should wear it, Juniper, you’re one of us.”

“Am I?” You questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Considering my dad is still pining over you? Yes.” You stared at her with an unchanged face.

“We are also running on limited time.” Stiles unhelpfully announced. You shot him a look over your shoulder and he shrunk back. “I’ll just be over here, not touching anything…”

You decided to hook the silver back around your neck, it was a present from Chris and you were going to cherish it, even if you were no longer together.

Returning your attention to the contents of your container, you pulled out your hunting knife and it’s leg holster, quickly settling it on your right thigh since your left was still sensitive from being scratched open and reached for one the desert eagles. Plucking it from the case, you grabbed a magazine and checked for bullets before sliding it into the gun and placing on the workbench.

“Allison, do you have qualms about putting an arrow into a man?” You questioned as you reached for the belt holster for your gun. “Because in my experience, those that Gerard works with are not people to underestimate or give leeway to.”

You wove the holster through your belt loops and clipped it in place before tucking the hand gun in its respective place.

“If you are asking me if I have qualms about shooting something, or someone, in the ass if I need to… no, it won’t be a problem.” Allison said as she tested her bow string. Stiles was nervously looking between the two of you.

“Do I need to be worried?” He asked. You looked at him as you reached for a second knife and tucked it into your boot.

“Very.” You said shutting the lid on your box. “Lydia, can you head back to your house and keep your mom busy tonight? I don’t know how long this will take and Gerard is always unpredictable.”

“I’ve got you, just don’t get killed. I’ve actually really liked having you around.” Lydia told you as you headed for the exit of the armory.

“I don’t plan on it.”

Date Published: 6/17/22

Last Edit: 9/15/23

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[christinesficrecs]

Do you know of any more fics similar to To Whom the Wolf King Bows? I know you had one rec recently and it reminded me of this WIP I adore. Nomadic basically king Derek and Stiles being dropped into this society as an outsider. Thanks!

Sadly, this fic hasn't been updated in over 2 years because it is pretty amazing. ❤️ Anyway!! I don't know a lot of Nomadic!Derek but these are similar in other ways. Enjoy!!!

To Whom The Wolf King Bows by MadcapRomantic | 95.3K | WIP

Stiles Stilinski meets The Wolf King, the very boogeyman he'd spent his younger years terrified of; yet the man is little, if anything, like the tales he's heard. But, Stiles has spent the last ten years of his life as a slave, under the harsh whip of the cruel King Gerard Argent, and trusting Derek - trusting anyone - is beyond difficult.

By Moon And Stars by kellifer_fic | 15.9K | Mature

"Have you heard of this Alpha?" Stiles asks, shuffling up his pallet so Scott has room to sit. Scott does with a grateful little twist of his mouth. Stefan forces him into the Stilinski ceremonial armor when they travel and Stiles can see that it's heavy and doesn't sit well on Scott. He can't shift encased in metal and Stefan knows it.

"I know of him, mostly stories that seem a little fantastical. Shifters exaggerate just like common people. They like their war stories."

"Tell me of him. Tell me a war story."

Golden Boy by trilliath | 127.7K | Explicit

Apparently it still amuses his uncle to buy sex slaves for him, no matter how steadfastly he refuses to use them. Derek ducks into his tent with a resigned sigh, prepared to dress and reassign whatever new beauty Peter has bought him. They do make for loyal servants, so he can't really complain about Peter's 'gifts'. But it is annoying to deal with, to have to spend his evening sorting out a slave instead of being able to go right to bed. It's just something he has to learn to accept as a byproduct of serving alongside his uncle.

But when he lays eyes on the boy laying amid his furs, he finds his breath catching in his throat. His skin is golden with the candle-light glimmering against the sheen of oil that has been slathered on his bared body. His lips are parted, and they work over inaudible words or sounds. His skin is flushed, nipples peaked and pierced with simple but unexpected golden rings. He's spectacularly beautiful in the candlelight. The many glowing candles that have been added to his usual lighting cast glittering edges and shadows, imbuing an almost unearthly golden color to his skin.

It's enough that Derek hesitates.

Unknown Kindness in a Cruel World by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 35.3K | Explicit

The prince carefully observed Stiles. “Do you know who I am?”

Stiles knew he should have. “No,” he answered, knowing the pimp would be unhappy with that answer.

“Are you afraid of me?” The prince asked, his eyes never leaving Stiles.

Stiles’ heart was pounding in his ears, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He knew the pimp would want him to answer with a quip or flirtation. But Stiles didn’t want to lie—not to the prince. And he couldn’t tell why. “No,” he truthfully answered.

This Was How Legends Were Made by 108.5K | Explicit

Caught between the Hales and the Argents in their war, Stiles finds himself a slave of the great Hale pack. Stiles spends each day working hard, hoping to earn his freedom and see his sick father. It also seems each day he’s capturing more and more attention from Derek, the young Hale lord. Stiles tells himself it’s mostly because Derek is merely trying to figure out how to send the annoying, useless slave away- not because of affection, despite the tales coming from the rumor mill.

It doesn’t matter what Derek's intentions are. Stiles can’t bother with love right now. He's got to keep his head down and survive long enough to keep his promise to Kate Argent. After all, she's promised to keep his father safe.

Thank You For This Dance by matildajones | 62.4K | Mature

Derek is not one for dancing, but at a ball he meets Stiles, an orphan, and he becomes quickly attached. He does not care what other people think about Stiles' wealth and status, but it's a lot harder for Stiles to ignore the comments that have haunted him his whole life.

It's even harder to convince Stiles that Derek's feelings are genuine.

The One With The Scottish Wolf Lord by Stoney | 11.7K | Explicit

The Hales are alive and a royal family in Scotland; Stiles is the waif sent to work in the kitchens, elevated to personal attendant/servant to the young Lord Hale. Who happens to be a wolf who can't shift back. (Not without finding... *spoiler*)

The Well of Living Waters by kalpurna | 30.3K | Explicit

King Derek takes a consort.

@the-diggler suggested this one.

A Crooked Way to Fly by andavs | 14.9K

“We can’t just leave him here to die.”

“He’s an emissary, Scott.” Derek tried to make his tone empathetic, but Scott’s tendency to fight back on everything always grated on his nerves. “His pack is gone, he won’t survive more than a day or two either way.”

“Then we should stay with him.”

Derek sighed as he studied the man for a moment; he was too pale against the fur rim of his hood, almost grey from lying out in the snow, and his cloak was stained with dark dried blood around a protruding arrow shaft. It was unlikely he would even last the night. They would probably be able to carry on in the morning with little time lost, if any.

[aethersea]

Trick or treat! 🩶👻💀

so if I were going to rewrite Teen Wolf (which I'm not, because tragically I have neither the time nor the energy), I’d start about halfway through season 2. Peter and Kate have both died, and the cycle of vengeance and cruelty has, in theory, died with them – but Gerard Argent has come to town, Derek is turning teenagers into werewolves, and everyone’s got, just, so much ptsd. Nothing has really been laid to rest. A man is not dead while his ghost still haunts your nightmares.

Also there’s a giant lizard running around killing people – hi, Jackson! – and Lydia’s hearing voices and, eventually, seeing things. In my rewrite that will not culminate in Peter Hale coming back to life, because fuck him, but she is going to be a banshee and it is going to suck for a while. Probably she finds a lot of dead bodies. But my rewrite will also actually feature the found family trope, because I have taste, so eventually someone will give her a hand with learning to control those powers at least a little bit. Maybe we can strong-arm Dr. Deaton into voicing a useful sentence from time to time. Maybe she can even join the pack a little bit, what a concept.

Which brings us to Derek! Personally I deeply enjoy him trying his damndest to be a good alpha and failing miserably, because he doesn’t have the temperament for it and he’s too full up on grief and trauma to make up for that, and having a lot of complicated awful emotions knotted around that because as the last living Hale, he’s the only one left to carry on his family’s legacy, and he’s failing at it. He’s failing terribly. He’s failing his sister, his parents, everyone who ever mattered to him, and he’s trying so hard but it’s just not enough, he’s not enough. Isn’t that awful? This poor guy.

Scott, however, is a natural leader. He’s not very good at it on account of how he’s 16 and doesn’t have any practice, but he does have the temperament, once he grows up a little, and he has the bullheaded optimism and stubborn insistence on caring for people that will allow him to slowly but surely become the steady rock on which all the rest of these traumatized teenagers can brace themselves. 

So Derek gets to watch as Scott, who’s not even an alpha, builds a makeshift pack of humans – Stiles, Allison, Lydia a little bit, Jackson in a complicated way – and starts to pull Derek’s actual betas out from underneath him just by virtue of being someone they can turn to when they’re scared. Derek wants to be that for them, and he can be someone who’ll destroy their enemies and teach them to defend themselves against violence, but he can’t comfort people. He can’t give them warmth. He can’t give them self-confidence, he can’t give them a place to belong, no matter how much he wishes he could. He’s doing his best, and it’s not enough, but if Scott would just accept him as alpha then maybe Scott could be his second-in-command and this wouldn’t really be Derek failing—

And then Scott manifests his ~true alpha~ powers. And Derek realizes that, sooner or later, he’s going to lose everything. He’ll fight – god, he’ll fight to the last, this is all he has left of his family – but the only way he could really win would be to kill Scott or run him out of town, and that…that would be an even worse betrayal of his family’s legacy. Scott hasn’t actually done anything wrong. Scott has saved the lives of Derek’s pack more often than Derek himself has been able to, at this point. He can’t honor his family’s memory by becoming someone who would kill a teenager for power.

Maybe, he thinks, this will all culminate in a big throwdown fight, and maybe their alpha instincts will get the best of them both and it’ll be to the death. Maybe then he’ll die, here on his family’s land, as he should have died years ago. Maybe that’s the closest he’s ever going to get to peace.

[rocketboots564]

Teen Wolf Season 1 (from a first time watcher)

Okay, I did this for another series (Red vs. Blue) and I DESPERATELY want to do it for this.

This is basically my thoughts/notes/critiques of Teen Wolf season 1 as someone watching it for the first time. Please enjoy and take it with a grain of salt:

I could tell this show EXUDED 2010’s energy when I witnessed with my very own eyes and ears a DUBSTEP WEREWOLF BATTLE

Guys, if you had told me there’d be dubstep werewolf battles I would’ve watched it YEARS ago… OPEN UP WITH THAT! (Note: I am not the biggest fan of dubstep, however watching Derek and Scott beat the hell out of each other while it blares is an experience I never knew I needed)

Its music is so nostalgically 2010’s it comes off as “so bad it’s good” in a way.

I love it even though I occasionally cringe

Don’t know if this is an unpopular opinion, but Scott McCall was kinda boring in this season.

NOW BEFORE YOU JUMP ME! Scott has insane highs and simmering lows, but the highs are mostly in the beginning of s1 and the last 4-5 episodes where he SHINES.

I mean it, he went from a B to an A-tier character those last few episodes

But, the other characters were just so much more… flavorful. Like Stiles?! I LOVED every second Stiles is on screen.

On the topic of Stiles… I will be talking about how much bisexual energy this show has. Because it’s A LOT. You guys were NOT kidding about that.

It’ll probably be a repost of this or its own thing.

Honestly, and you’re gonna hate me for this, but Scott and Derek kinda act like love interests in a smutty, poorly written YA novel–BUT! It’s a bit endearing.

But also tell me you can’t see it.

I mean like, Scott’s answer to suppressing his transformation ends up being “his love for Allison” like a good 60-70% of the time.

Time to talk about Lydia. I started off HATING Lydia for like the first 1.5 episodes. I hated her snarky, mean-girl, wannabe Regina George ass at first… at first…

But, I took a step back and thought to myself:

“The pipeline from Supernatural to this show is surprisingly close… which means one of many things: they’re gonna give her massive character development and make me not only feel bad for her, but make me love her so much she becomes a favorite of mine.”

Lo and behold… you’ll never guess who my second favorite character is?

Lydia… right under Stiles where she belongs. He’s just that good

Can we please PLEASE talk about how unprofessional the Teachers are in this school! LIKE WHAT THE HELL?!

First of all, there’s the coach, which sure, he cuts corners, and can be a very questionable motivator (please don’t reward your students with an A for doing something that has nothing to do with their educational prowess. Nor should you tease them thinking it’ll motivate them. Positive reinforcement works people.)

HOWEVER… the Chemistry teacher? OOOHHH IF THERES ANY BITCH I WANNA SMACK ITS HIS ASS

How are you gonna sit there, and actively berate and insult your students, and expect good things from them.

And then, on top of all of that, YOU HAVE TO AUDACITY, to withhold information that connects you to the Hale fire?! OOOOH PETER I’LL JUMP HIS ASS WITH YOU.

Adrian Harris, you are an unprofessional, ignorant, arrogant slob unfit to teach goddamn preschoolers. (Granted, I’m while watching season 2 right now… and my hate for him has only swelled)

Speaking of Peter, I don’t think he’s the real villain of this season. He definitely is a villain, and a main one at that. But the biggest bad here?

That title goes to the woman I wanna see get the electric chair: MOTHERFUCKING KATE ARGENT

I will make my own post on Kunt Argent, analyzing this VILE woman, and why Jill Wagner plays her PERFECTLY. (Seriously she made a villain that makes my blood boil. 10/10 acting and writing)

I’ll also probably talk about Allison and what I love about her in that too because it’s important.

[topazy]

In the shadows

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x reader

Warnings: Swearing, minor violence

Chapter: 1.11

Stiles shakes his head, unimpressed, as you both watch Scott turn his bedroom upside down while searching for his phone. Seeing Scott become so wound up scared you, mainly because it could trigger him into turning.

“Call it again!”

“Scott, I've called it three times in the last five minutes, and it’s not here. You’ll just need to get a new one.”

“I can’t afford a new one,” he says while wriggling out from under his bed. “And I can’t do this alone. We need to find Derek.”

“Well, A, you’re not alone. You have me and Mori,” Stiles points out. “And B, didn’t you say Derek walked into gunfire? He sounds pretty dead.”

You had to stifle a laugh at the expression on Stiles' face. He was the only person you knew who could be blunt and funny at the same time. You sigh. “I don’t want to sound cynical, but I think Stilinski is right. Werewolf or not, the chances of Derek surviving that are slim.”

“Argent's plan was to use him to get the alpha. They're not going to kill him.”

“All right, so then just let them do what they’re planning, you know? They use Derek to get Peter, problem solved.”

“Not if Peter’s going after Allison to find Derek!” Scott snaps while looking through the same drawers for the fourth time. “I can’t protect her on my own. Which means we need to find Derek first. Just one of you help me!”

Stiles raises his eyebrows at you before turning the computer chair he’s sitting in to face Scott. “You know, you probably lost it when you two were fighting. You remember when he was trying to kill you? After you interrupted him trying to kill Jackson, Are you starting to see a pattern of violent behavior here? He also put Mori’s ex-boyfriend in the hospital; everybody seems to forget about that.”

“He was going to kill anyone, and I’m not letting him die.”

Stiles looks at him in disbelief and asks, “Could you at least think about letting him die? For me?”

You swing your leg off Scott’s bed and kick Stiles in the knee and mouth ‘seriously’ at him.

He shoves your foot off him, “what? I can’t be the only one who remembers all the horrible shit Derek’s done.”

“Meh,” you shrug. “Milo kinda had it coming... so did Jackson to be fair.”

Scott suddenly jumps back from the boxes he was rummaging through and says, “My mom just got home from work.”

You watch as his face falls and he asks, “Is she okay?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “She’s crying in her car.”

He sits down on the bed beside you, and you rest your head on his shoulder. “Scott, you can’t look after everyone all the time. It’s impossible.”

You hoped more than anything that Scott would cut himself some slack before he drove himself crazy.

—

“Please!”

Stiles gives you a stern look while closing his locker door and says, “No.”

“Come on, don’t make me beg.”

He huffs, “I thought you liked Lydia and Allison.”

“I do; I just hate shopping.” You lean your head back against the wall, putting on your most defeated look. “I need you there. Lydia has already said she wants to give me a makeover. What if I give into peer pressure and end up looking like an idiot?”

He laughs and says, “By idiot, you mean female, right?”

You hit his chest playfully and said, “Fine, I’ll beg.” In truth, you’d grown to be quite fond of Lydia, but Allison made you nervous, and you struggled to fit in with their conversation at times and often felt like the odd one out. “I don’t want to be alone with Allison because I’m worried I'm going to put my foot in it and say something about Scott that I shouldn't. I know how much she means to him; I just, I’ll say something weird like…”

“My bestie is a werewolf?”

“I’m being serious,” you frown.

“I know,” he says softly. “Tell you what, I’ll meet you in the mall if you try on at least one horrible frilly puffy dress.”

You roll your eyes just as the bell for class goes: “I’ll see you after school. Don’t be late.”

—

As you step onto the escalator going up to the floor of the department Lydia kept raving about, you notice Allison is very quiet. “Is everything okay, Allison?”

“There's nothing wrong; I just have a lot on my mind.”

“You could smile at least,” Lydia jests. “Ever heard of the saying, Never frown? Someone could be falling in love with your smile?”

It was nice seeing them on better terms; Allison had forgiven Lydia for making out with Scott. It probably helped that Lydia bought her friend a prom dress as an apology. You zone out of their conversation as your eyes scan the horrible patterned clothes hanging on the mannequins; you only pay attention when you reach the top floor and Allison says, “Oh, don’t frown, Lydia. Someone could be falling in love with your smile.”

“Sorry, what’s going on?” You ask confused.

“I was just letting Lydia know who her new date to the prom is,” Allison says, amused.

You follow her line of thought and feel instant jealousy when you realize who she’s talking about. Stiles. He was standing at the perfume counter sniffing different bottles and said, “Actually, that’s my date. So Lydia will need to find someone else.”

The redhead smirks, linking her arm with yours. “Looks like I don’t need to cancel my dumb, roided-up jock after all.”

—

You hold multiple dresses up in front of a long mirror, all of them black and similar in style. You feel crazy for not being able to make a simple decision alone and just pick a damn dress. Allison left to get her car, which was about to be towed, and Lydia was dragging Stiles around the store like her caddie while she tried on multiple outfits. Sighing, you hang all but two on a rack and hold two dresses side by side. Why did it all of a sudden matter so much how you looked? You never cared before. Unless... was it possible you wanted to look nice to impress—

“You should really try something in a lighter shade.”

You look over your shoulder and feel your chest tighten as you struggle to find any words to say as Peter Hale walks closer to you. The alpha. Your voice is weak as you back away from him, “Scott…”

Peter chuckles, “Scott might be your savior on many things, but fashion isn’t one of them. The best way to get your little friend's attention is by wowing him, and you aren’t going to do that by wearing the same old thing, are you?”

You remain speechless as Peter holds up a light yellow dress next to you and says, “Hmm.” He places the dress back down, then holds up another and nods, “sea green is most definitely your color.”

Before you have a chance to reply, someone grabs hold of your wrist and drags you away. You blink a few times before realizing who it is. “Scott!”

He lets go when people start to stare, most likely because you raised your voice. He ignores them, “are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine, Scott.”

“What the hell did he want?”

“To give me fashion advice.”

Frustrated, Scott runs his hands through his hair, looking lost in his own thoughts. “First he played with my mom, then Allison, and now you.”

“I’m fine, and so are your mom and Allison,” you reassure him. “Allison’s whole family is a werewolf hunter; she's probably the safest out of all of us.”

“I just want to protect the people I love,” he stutters.

“I know,” you place your hand on his back, motioning for him to turn around. “You can start by saving Stiles from shopping.”

He lets out a quiet laugh when his eyes land on Stiles, who was struggling to hold a pile of clothes that had been placed in his arms. “Yeah, we better help him.”

—

Nervously, you walk back into the school’s gymnasium, where the dance was being held. Despite nothing going wrong so far, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad would happen. You look up at the bleachers when an empty cup hits the back of your head. Spotting Scott, who was trying his best to blend in, and going to sit beside him.

“You do know the whole point of blending into a school dance you’ve been attending is to blend in,” you laugh. “Throwing things at people is probably not the way forward.”

He struggles to keep a straight face as he apologizes, “Sorry.”

“You're forgiven,” you roll your eyes playfully, “have you seen Stiles?”

He points out Stiles, who was in the crowd of students, he was dancing with Lydia. Your smile drops. You didn’t think seeing him dance with her would cause any emotions to stir inside you, but it did. There was no denying the redhead was one of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen and was incredibly smart. It was no surprise to see his beaming face.

“When you went to the bathroom, Lydia asked him if he knew where you got your necklace from; he just smiled and said it was a gift. Stiles doesn’t know you know, does he?”

You shake your head. Years ago, you’d lost a necklace you'd been given by a family member for your birthday and were distraught. You didn’t care that your parents would be mad; it mattered because it was sentimental. You spent days looking for it, and then one morning at school, Stiles gave you back your lost necklace. He says he found it on the lacrosse field, which was almost easy to believe except that the one you lost was silver and the one he gave you back was gold, but you never questioned it and thanked him. A few days later, Mr. Stilinski accidentally let slip that Stiles had sold some of his old computer games, and you realized how he’d gotten you the necklace. “No, I never told him.”

Stiles always went out of his way to be kind to others, and he looked so happy when he gave you something. You suspected that telling him you knew it wasn’t the same one you lost would only disappoint him. It was strange thinking about it now—all that fuss over a moon-shaped necklace. Maybe your life was foreshadowing what was to happen in your future?

Scott elbows you lightly in the side and says, “Stiles' crush on her is only superficial.”

“God, there's nothing I'm hiding from you, is there?” You ask lightheartedly.

You smooth the fabric of your dress down. You decided to buy something that you usually wouldn’t wear and got a light pink satin dress that stopped just above your knees. Your mom curled your hair and pinned it up for you before adding the smallest amount of makeup. At first, you kind of liked it, but now you feel silly.

“You look bea--oh crap!”

You notice his fixation on one spot and look down from the bleachers to see coach angrily wagging his finger at him, “McCall! I see you! Come here, buddy.”

Scott runs away from the stairs and tries to lose coach in between all the couples dancing. It was hard not to laugh watching the scene unfold as Coach struggled to catch up with him, shoving other students out of the way.

“McCall! It’s a small gym; I’m going to find you. I got you, McCall!”

Scott disappears behind decorative curtains, then comes out and pulls Danny up with him to dance. He puts his arms around Danny’s neck just as coach catches him. “McCall! You’re not supposed to... What the hell are you? What the hell are you doing?”

The music is paused, and the dance goes completely silent as the coach backtracks his words.

Scott pulls Danny in closer. “Yes, coach?”

“Okay,” Coach chuckles nervously, “hold on, you... I was just saying he’s not supposed to... I mean, I wasn’t saying that he shouldn’t... you guys don’t think... you don’t... I… I was just…dance everyone, just dance.”

When the music is turned back on, Danny is left dumbfounded when Scott rushes off, the coach goes to yell at Greenberg, and Danny’s date stares at him unimpressed after watching him dance with another guy.

“Mori! Mori!” You look down from the spot you’re sitting to see Stiles waving for you to come down, and sighing, you make your way to him. “I was looking for you; did you see what Scott just did?”

“Yeah, he really pulled a number on coach.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m totally fine.”

He gives you a skeptical look, but you force a smile that seems to please him. He offers you his hand and says, “May I have this dance, ma'am?”

You accept his offer for a dance. “You may.”

—

You rest your arms comfortably on Stiles' shoulder as you slow dance together. You've lost track of how long you’ve been dancing for, but this was the part of the night where couples would start to make out or declare their undying love for one another, and you couldn’t help but think Stiles would rather be dancing with someone else instead.

“Okay,” Stiles suddenly pulls back from your embrace, but he keeps his hands on your arm and waist. “You're stiff as a board. Does this have something to do with what happened in the mall?”

You shrug. “Honestly, I’m not used to being all dressed up, and I feel stupid.”

“Well, you don’t look stupid; you look breathtaking.”

You try to laugh off his comment, “You’re my best friend, of course you're going to say that.”

“I’m saying it because it’s the truth, Mori. You look the same to me now as you do wearing those old oversized outfits with paint covering your hair and face,” he says, looking down at the ground to avoid your gaze. “You could wear a garbage bag and still be the most beautiful woman in the room.”

You look at him shocked; you weren’t expecting a compliment like that. Stiles lifts his head, and his light brown eyes gaze into your own. Your faces slowly move closer—

“Have either of you seen Jackson?”

You practically leap apart. Stiles rubs at his jaw, his eyes freakishly wide, and says, “No, I haven’t seen him for a while. Didn’t he come with Allison? Maybe she’s with him.”

Turning your head to look around the room, you spot Allison. “She’s dancing with Scott.”

Lydia looks slightly shaken. “I can’t find him anywhere.”

“Maybe he just went to the bathroom,” Stiles suggests.

“For over an hour.”

As much as you hated Jackson, you couldn’t deny it was worrying with the knowledge of the killer alpha on the loose.

“We can help you look,” you offer.

“Okay, I’m going to check outside," Lydia says before quickly walking away. “Call me if you find him.”

You look back at Stiles and say, “I’ll go with her so she’s not alone, Lydia, wait!”

“I’ll check the hallways!” He calls after you.

—

“Why would Jackson be out here?” You ask, wrapping your arms around your bare shoulders. Lydia had led you to the lacrosse field, which was empty except for the two of you.

“He comes out here to think.”

You refrain from making a sarcastic comment. Suddenly the lights surrounding the lacrosse field come on one by one. Getting a bad feeling, you grab Lydia’s hand and say, “We should go.”

“Jackson?”

“Jackson’s not out here. It's probably just some creep messing with us; let’s go.” You try to pull her with you, but she lets go of your hand and starts to walk towards a figure coming out of the shadows. It takes your sight a moment to adjust to the bright lights, but when it does, you scream, “Lydia, run!”

Paralyzed with fear, Lydia remains in the same place as Peter starts to change out of his human form. Before you have a chance to get to her, Lydia’s body hits the ground. “No!” You run and kneel beside her, feeling for a pulse. “Why did you do that? She's never done anything to you!”

Peter lets out a sinister laugh. “I know, but I couldn’t let her wonder off now, could I? Not when I finally have what I need.”

Seeing his eyes glowing red, your body tenses. “What is it you need?”

“You're not dense, Mori; figure it out.”

You stop the tears from spilling from your eyes as you struggle to think of what he needs. Your heart sinks when you see another person coming onto the field. Stiles. You whisper, “Please don’t hurt him.”

“Funny, I’m counting on him to say the same thing.”

It finally made sense to you. Peter has always been observing all of you. His kills weren’t random but calculated. He has noticed the small details no one else did: your group's relationships and how you treat each other. That's why it wasn't hard for him to realize how important you were to Stiles and Scott or how easy it would be for him to use you against them.

That last thing you see before everything goes black is Peter's large, bloodied fangs coming towards you.

[larry-is-my-anchor1]

Rewatching Teen Wolf all over again because it’s my comfort show.

The last time I rewatched I recognized how JD took mythology and pretty much shat on it. It appears he thinks the fans are stupid.

And it’s not my first time at rewatching (as again my comfort show), because I noticed on a previous occasion that most of the writing had discrepancies. Like was the sherif there or not when his wife died? And how old really is Derek? First he was only 19. Then Derek was made older because guessing since the fans liked the scenes between Hoechlin and O’Brien. Like JD really thought the fans would forget his age was changed?

Also where does Stiles get his nickname from maternal or paternal grandfather? Discrepancies from the first season episode 5 to the season where he was taken by the ghost riders.

In season 2 when Gerard says to Allison she’s almost eighteen but in season 1 she turns 18. wtf!

In season 3 Lydia alludes to Stiles not being human when she says to leave the figuring out to someone human, when they didn’t know who was doing the sacrificing.

Now I’m focusing on how literally JD shat on Derick Hale. Repeatedly. It wasn’t bad enough this character was abused as a child, but then his entire family was brutally murdered. Then he’s left alone and just more crap keeps happening to him. Of course the first thing he does is try to get a pack. He can’t be an omega.

He’s also dealing with trauma of being in shame, the his family is murdered, which adds even more shame and more trauma because he feels responsible for the deaths Derek’s also only a few years older than Scott, Stiles and the rest. He’s not going to be amazing at being an alpha initially. He’s a traumatized older teen or young adult. He didn’t want to be an Alpha. Nor was he ever given a proper chance. He didn’t have guidance. Wtf Deaton. You couldn’t help him?

Beginning of season 3 when they had to do the ice bath sub consciousness thing with Isaac why did it take two wives to hold Isaac down. Poor Isaac whose already been through to much had to have claws in his neck and then practically drowning. But only took one person to hold down Scott, Alison and Stiles. Did Isaac have that darkness around him also?

Then in season 3B they mentioned that Stiles plays chess. But in season 1 they say only the Sheridan plays. Do JD and his writers really think people do not pay attention? If they care about ratings then care about the loyalty and intelligence of fans. But instead they just baited us and made us seem insane.

Season 4 episode 6, when stiles and Lydia are trying to see Meredith, Parrish tells Bronsky that he was caught blowing a breathalyzer test in Canaan. Later on we learn Canaan has existed in decades. JD thinks we’re fools.

But Derek was also too young to have had to find a new pack, when his family was brutally murdered. Perhaps that’s why he was grumpy. He was desperate.

A few months ago he had to end his girlfriends life as she was brutally attacked. Giving power to the nemeton. Which then gave power to Julia/jennifer/darach. Come on now.

Then flipping Kate somehow makes him a kid again and he has to deal with losing his powers.

Pack means everything to wolves. He again couldn’t be an omega. And to have to do it semi alone and then truly alone. Then trying to help a bitten werewolf understand what being a wolf means.

Plus he also has to live in the place his family was killed.

Then his damn groomer returns.

Then his little sister comes back and he chooses to make himself a punching bag for her and Boyd. He is always truly sacrificing himself.

Then his asshole uncle can’t remember if he’s good or bad but keeps abusing him! Peter was also never much of a help when Derek were youngsters.

Then a flipping dark Druid abuses him too. Like leave Derek the fuck alone. Don’t even get me started on the garbage Teen Wolf movie. That was utter and absolute garbage.

[fullmoans]

Home is a Fire | Part 5

They left Stiles out because they knew the nogitsune would tear him apart, but now the nogitsune is gone and Stiles can feel the nemeton telling him it isn’t over — not for him. And maybe not for Derek either.

Scott’s house wasn’t as full as it had been the last time Stiles had visited. When Melissa let him inside, there was no one downstairs. Inside of Scott’s childhood bedroom, only Lydia, Allison, and Scott remained.

“So, Jackson didn’t feel like sticking around any longer?” It was Lydia who recognized Stiles’s voice first and turned to answer him where he stood in the doorway.

“It was something to do with work. I’m honestly not very sure what he does for a living so I didn’t ask.”

“I’m glad you came back. We’re leaving tomorrow and I was worried I wouldn’t get to see you before then,” Scott said, standing from where he sat on the corner of the bed. Stiles could tell he meant what he was saying but he was like a puppy. He was too concerned with what was right in front of him to be interested in anything else that was going on.

“Listen guys, there’s more going on than what you think. Peter and I,” and he was cut off.

“What, you’re hanging out with Peter now? You hate Peter,” Lydia said, rising to her feet as well.

“Would you just listen to me? I know everyone has their own things going on but this isn’t over.” Stiles was getting frustrated. His old friends had a habit of thinking they always knew better than him. Maybe it was because of his humanity. Maybe it was because of how obvious his PTSD became in the years before he left Beacon Hills for good. They were treating him like he wasn’t the only one of them still risking his life regularly running into burning fires.

“Of course, Stiles,” Allison said, “Talk.”

So Stiles talked. He told them about his dreams, his conversation with Cora, the library that he found with Peter, and the books. He told them again about Derek’s traumatic past and his own experiences with the nemeton when he was possessed.

“Those tendrils of light.. We saw those when we brought Allison back. It wasn’t the nemeton that sent me the instructions on how to do it though, it was the nogitsune,” Lydia said.

“I don’t think the nogitsune has anything to do with this. He was in the nemeton long enough to have figured out how to trap Allison in it but he died. I can’t feel him. When I reach out to the nemeton, I know he’s gone. Derek, I can feel.” Stiles was trying to put the pieces together but he still couldn’t answer the biggest question. “I keep seeing this phrase, ‘What’s taken is returned.’ It was in my dream last night and it was in one of my books this morning. I brought it with me.” Stiles shrugged off his jacket in the warm bedroom and took the book out of one of the large pockets. He gave it to Allison. “You were inside. Maybe you know what it means.”

Allison took the book from Stiles’s hands and looked through it. He had folded down the corner of the page he found that morning.

“It doesn’t mean anything to me, Stiles. I don’t remember being inside. I closed my eyes when the Ony stabbed me and opened them here.”

Lydia reached out towards Allison, beckoning for the book. Allison gave it to her. Stiles felt like time slowed as Lydia touched the book and something happened to her. The look on her face became worried as she wrapped her hand around the spine of the book and once she firmly gripped it, she slid down to her knees and looked straight at Stiles. She screamed. Suddenly, Allison, Scott, and Stiles were on the ground around her, calling her name. Stiles was in front of her, holding both of his hands to her cheeks. He pressed his forehead against hers like he’d done every time she had needed him in Portland. After a few moments, her scream stopped, but she was still fixed by something.

“She needs to draw,” Stiles said, looking down to the hand which wasn’t grabbing the book as it moved in some kind of pattern. “Paper, Scott, paper!” Scott scrambled to the desk and found a used notebook from highschool. He really needs to clean out this room, Stiles thought as Scott opened the notebook to a blank page and put it under Lydia’s hand. He must have grabbed a pen from the same desk because Stiles saw him grab Lydia’s hand and firmly place a pen in it, wrapping her fingers around it.

Lydia dropped the book and stilled. Stiles and Allison moved away from her, giving her just enough space to move. She hunched over the notebook on the floor and began to write. Stiles could make out the words easily. He’d just said them. What’s taken is returned. The nemeton requires a sacrifice. We give unto thee to receive tenfold. What’s taken is returned. What’s given is rewarded. She wrote them all over the page, flipped it, and continued on a new page. She went back over some of the letters. Others, she spaced out too far to be a coincidence. It went on for what felt like an hour as Stiles, Scott, and Allison stood together, in the doorway, and watched.

Xx

Lydia gasped when she finally stopped writing and looked up at Stiles and their friends. She looked back down at the notebook and dropped the pen. Stiles was the first to move, kneeling down in front of her. “Are you okay?”

“I think so. Something happened when I touched that book. I think it remembers all of us.”

“The books?” Scott asked.

“No, the nemeton. I saw you go under the ice water. I saw Derek and Paige on the nemeton. I saw five people in hoods standing around the nemeton. I think they were us.”

“But there are only four of us,” Scott added, again, helpfully.

“The fifth person,” Stiles started, “it has to be a Hale, I think. Lydia is connected to the nemeton by her abilities. We are connected to it by our sacrifice. Someone has to be connected to Derek.”

Allison, while listening to the rest of them talk, had taken the notebook and begun to rip out the pages. She was placing them around on the floor. Stiles noticed and stepped back to give her more room. She laid all twenty pages out on the floor, 4 pages tall and 5 pages wide, in just the order that Lydia had drawn them. The white spaces between words showed a picture. “What is it?” Lydia asked, noticing Allison had finished laying out the pages.

“It’s the nemeton,” she said. And it was. The white spaces between words painted a very simple outline of the nemeton from above. The bolded letters that Lydia had drawn were only outside of the image. Stiles looked closer at the letters, looking for a pattern.

Sacrifice, unto, tenfold, tenfold, nemeton, unto, tenfold, and so on. The bolded letters left a message.

FULL MOON. HALE. SACRIFICE. REWARD. RETURN.

The message repeated around the shape of the nemeton.

“It looks like you won’t be leaving so soon, Scott,” Lydia said.

Xx

Stiles, Scott, Allison, and Lydia sat on the floor of his own childhood bedroom, looking up at his map. He’d added Lydia’s message and the words from the book. So far, they knew that they would have to go to the nemeton on the full moon, potentially wear cloaks, choose a Hale to go with them, and possibly spill someone’s blood.

“I don’t understand. Why would Derek be trapped in the nemeton?” Scott asked.

“It has to be something to do with Paige. Both Stiles and I have seen her now,” Lydia said.

“Paige’s death activated the nemeton. At least, her virgin blood touching it did. It brought it back to life, like life support, until the three of us sacrificed ourselves to it,” Stiles added.

It was Allison who spoke next. “The nemeton requires a sacrifice. We give unto thee to receive tenfold. What’s taken is returned. If the nemeton requires a sacrifice, then it was Paige. She was what was taken. Shouldn’t she be the one returned?”

“A life is what was taken. A life is what’s returned.” This new voice came from outside of Stiles’s now opened window, but no face accompanied it. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see who had spoken. Stiles recognized the woman’s voice. More importantly, the only people that ever came in through his bedroom window always seemed to be Hales.

“Cora,” Stiles whispered, “you got here fast.”

Scott, Allison, and Lydia’s eyes widened in surprise as they looked to Stiles’s window just in time to see Cora Hale, wearing all black leather that matched her glossy dark brown hair, step in gracefully, yellow eyes flashing.

[specialagentlokitty]

Peter hale x daughter!reader - similar to us

Hello, long time no see! How are you doing? I hope you're doing okay. I saw that you request was now open and I wanted to know if I could for a Peter Hale x daughter reader ( teen wolf crossover twilight) where she told her dad that she has a boyfriend (it can be Jacob or paul whoever you decide) and she wants him to meet him and how the meetings go. Please and of course if it's okay with you to do a Peter as a father of reader if not then ignore my request. - @bakakara666💜

You had been seeing Jacob for a while, and you weren’t sure how to bring it up to your dad until tonight when he happened to hear you on the phone to your boyfriend.

“So.” Peter said.

“So..” you mumbled.

You and Peter stared at one another and he smirked slowly.

“Wanna tell me who that was?” He mused.

You whistled slightly as you tried to walk away, but he grabbed the back of your back making you stop and he pulled you back.

Looking up at your dad, you gave a sheepish smile.

“Boyfriend..”

“So is that who you’re going to see this weekend?”

You nodded and he nodded back.

“Great, I’m coming.”

“Dad!”

All weekend you tried to talk Peter out of coming with you, you even tried asking Derek to help you but he liked the idea of Peter being gone.

So as you drove to the reserve, you had to listen to your dad ramble on about how Jake better be strong and he better be able to protect you.

“Dad he’s a werewolf too! Okay? He can protect me!”

“What’s his pack?”

“You wouldn’t know it they’re not like us. They’re different werewolves, you’ll see.”

He kept trying to get answers out of you but you wouldn’t give them to him so he pouted as you drove.

When you pulled up, you jumped out of the car before your dad and ran to your boyfriend, jumping in his arms.

“I missed you..” Jake whispered.

“I missed your too..”

He set you down and kissed the top of your head and wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“This is my dad. Peter Hale. Dad, this is my boyfriend. Jacob Black.”

Jake moved away from you and held his hand out to your dad, and your dad looked at it.

He grilled Jacobs’s hand tightly, and Jacob did the same thing and you slapped both of the theirs hands.

“Dad!” You hissed.

“Where’s the modesty in this place, put on a shirt.” Peter huffed.

“It’s normal dad. Okay? Just leave it.”

The three of you walked to where the rest of the pack was standing and you introduced everyone.

It was really tense as you dad stared at them all and he roared at them.

His eyes turned blue and you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose you did the same thing back at him.

“Playing big bad wolf? Let’s play.” Paul grinned.

He phased and dug his paws into the ground and you poked his nose making him growl a little bit.

“No. Bad Paul. We don’t hurt me dad even if he is an ass.”

“Ouch. Okay.”

Peter walked over and looked at Paul, tilting his head a little.

“Curious, and you can all do it?”

The pack nodded and they all phased, showing different sized and coloured wolves as they circled the pair of you.

“How curious indeed. I’ve never come across anything like this.”

“You can’t take over the pack don’t even think about it dad.”

He raised his hands and you rolled your eyes at him, mixing in with the wolves as you walked among them until you found Jake and you wrapped your arm over his head.

He whined a little, nudging his head against you as he closed his eyes.

Peter watched your carefully.

He didn’t care for anyone.

But you?

He would kill literally anyone for you.

But seeing how safe you were among the other werewolves he was convinced that it was okay for you to keep coming here.

But of course like any father would he was going to keep giving you a hard time about it because he had to

[bentasabean]

Just watched teen wolf the movie and like I just can’t with it

-For starters why is Harris alive and was he the one to have set dereks house on fire 20 years ago? I guess we’ll never know

-Also I do not like when characters come back from the dead so I don’t like the whole Allison thing and on the topic of Allison I’m so confundled. Like how was she so easily able to break free of the nogitsune’s hold on her mind although one good part of the movie was how badass she was

-Also the kitsune being able to share its power? Since when. That really confused me can’t lie. Also how come the nogitsune was able to become that ugly mole rat werewolf when it clearly said in season 3 that you couldn’t be a fox AND a wolf

-We also had the whole stydia thang which was super annoying. Like why would Lydia leave stiles just because of some dreams or maybe premonitions. And what did stiles think of this? Like are they never going to see each other ever again.

-Also Eli I loved him and his character was a great balance of stiles and derek. However who the hell was his mother because it wasn’t even mentioned at all. And I didn’t get how Eli was 15 like did everyone just leave beacon hills and immediately Derek just went and had a baby

-Malia and Parrish being a thing was so weird because it felt random and we don’t know how it ends for them on whether or not they become official. Malia just always seems to get shipped with people, there was Malia and stiles for a bit and then there was Malia and Scott which had seemed like it would last

-Also on the topic of Scott I just can’t believe he hadn’t gotten over Allison after 15 years like it’s insane. And for Scott’s sake I’d really wished he would’ve moved on and found someone new

-Also what was going on with Mellisa and Chris. We ended season 6 with them together and what seemed to be happy but suddenly in this movie they’re split and it was basically barely mentioned

-Also how was deaton able to get the nogitsune out of Chris’s head so easily? And why couldn’t he have done the same with Allison? Or even stiles in season 3A?

-Ummm also why did derek have to die because it felt unnecessary. Also by fire? Like Peter survived being set on fire so couldn’t the nogitsune have a swell

-And I know I should give some credit for the movie, and I do but a movie just felt wrong in some way. Like everything was so rushed and things happened too quickly. I wish they’d made it as like a short series (probs like 6 episodes long)

-Lastly I knew going into this movie that stiles wasn’t going to be in it and I understand he doesn’t need to have been for it to have been good. But some scenes really did feel lacklustre without stiles, like the ending on the lacrosse pitch. Because that scene felt weird, no one seemed to care that Derek had just died and it took them all too long to go and comfort Eli

-However on a good note I did like getting see everyone back together again and I loved getting to see Peter because I love him. And obvi loved to see coach as well.

Anyways I hoped you enjoyed my ramblings

Please don’t come for me if I’m wrong about anything or if you’ve got a different opinion to me. I haven’t watched teen wolf properly in a while but I still was/am an avid fan who I would think knew my facts

(Edit 1: I MISS THEO ALSO)

(Edit 2: I think everyone’s excited by just the fact that there is new content in the fandom which I am too. But I just don’t take the movie as canon. Also I say things to do with Allison in a way that probably shows she’s not my favourite character, and after season 2 I didn’t really like that much)

[prettyshon10]

TEEN WOLF: THE MOVIE THOUGHTS

LIKES

I could see!!! (*Chef Ramsay voice* Finally, some good effing lighting.)

Scott running an animal shelter

Cute opening credits

Boss!Lydia (c’mon white power suit!)

Jackson being Jackson (he ain’t do much, but I appreciated his presence)

Derek giving Clark Kent dad vibes lol

Malia being Malia (her dialogue never disappoints 😂)

Coach being Coach (we stan Bobby Finstock in this house)

Nogitsune is still effectively creepy

Fights look less like breakdancing

Ridiculous Peter entrance (I chuckled)

Lydia/Jackson duo is fun

Scallison 3x05 parallel

Actually liked Eli’s character and storyline

Greenberg mention! (But still no appearance!)

So many callbacks, my heart!

They didn’t go overboard with the profanity and nudity, thank goodness (I hate when shows move on to a platform that condones it and they go buck wild—it’s so cringey, like, calm down)

Scallison endgame was endearing (though I still stand on Scira being better)

DISLIKES

Plot really should’ve pertained to where the show left off (hunters v supernaturals)

Malia/Parrish (who is this for? what was the reason?)

Liam feels like such a background character

Adrian Harris? Really? REALLY? 🙄

Nogitsune being a werewolf (they literally defeated it in 3B because it can’t be a fox and a wolf, right?)

Derek dying was unnecessary. (Especially via fire, c’mon now)

They really should’ve paid Arden Cho what she was worth instead of playing in her face

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS

Allison’s nails are the same as when she died (nice attention to detail there)

Allison’s mom—Jump Scare, ngl

No, but seriously, who is Eli’s mom?

Hikari’s an obvious Kira replacement, and yet I want to know more about her

The cgi cliff 😂

Peter’s scent tracking—sir, get up!

Playing lacrosse like they lives aren’t in danger (typical teen wolf, lol)

I was hoping they weren’t gonna break up Stydia, but I can accept Lydia’s reasoning (it could’ve been worse)

Derek’s memorial flashbacks are more emotional than his actual death

Eichen House still running, oof

Didn’t mind Stiles’ absence, but I’m sure y’all knew that

All in all, I had fun watching the movie. Yeah, I think they should’ve gone a different direction in terms of plot (though, I am glad to have Allison back). Yes, it was a mess (laughably so), but no messier than Teen Wolf has always been. Lots of unanswered questions, lots of plot holes and contradictions, and some open endings for characters, but again, what did I expect?

Definitely some touching moments and quite a few laughs. Far from the best, but I’ve seen worse (haven’t seen anything that’s pissed me off half as bad as season 7 of The 100, lol).

I think I’m in the mood for a series rewatch.

[goingoutto]

I fell in love today

Peter hated Beacon Hills.

Born and raised and still amazed at how stupid the people are there, and yet, he still can’t figure out why he keeps coming back to this shithole. He spent his teenage years being as rebellious as he could, driving Talia up the walls and not giving a shit about anything.

Life always seemed so meaningless to him, with no surprises, no excitement, no joy. He was always bored out of his skull. At fourteen, he got a name on his finger, but nothing changed. He didn’t search for this person, didn’t feel thrilled, and didn’t make any effort.

Sure, he could feel his soulmate, all the rage burning inside, the bursts of anger and passion, and a strange calmness that used to make Peter royally pissed off. 

Christopher . 

The patron Saint of Travellers. So this is what Peter did, he travelled a lot. North, South, East, West, Countries and Continents. Anything to escape that fucking city. He learned a lot, went to different universities, and fell in love with the chiropractic area of everything.

There was something about this that made him feel powerful. He could help people with his hands, and he knew exactly what to do to hurt them if necessary. Not that he needed that to hurt anyone, he was a werewolf for fuck’s sake. He also met a lot of Christophers during the years, but none of them made him feel  it .

Peter never let himself be stagnant by someone or something, he just lived his life the way he wanted, he never waited for someone or got stuck with this idea, this dream. Talia asked him to be her right-hand numerous times, and he would just laugh because it was such a stupid thing to do.

It was so idiotic that despite everything he did, she still couldn’t accept who he was. He wasn’t a good person; he was greedy, selfish, and violent. He was poisonous, and the vast majority of the time he would surrender to brutality and indulge in a good bloody fight. 

Peter had fled from a lot of places, leaving dead bodies and lots of angry motherfuckers behind. Right now he needed to lay low for a while, after accidentally killing a Russian drug lord in New York, so back to Beacon Hills he went. 

Cursing the bickering brothers for the millionth time that morning, he got out of the car, closing the door with more force than it needed. He should have paid more attention to the school calendar before coming back, and right now he was stuck with Derek and Core fighting over the stupidest little things one could think of. 

The weather was hot as hell, and all he could think about was going back to the house to get in the pool. They were having a barbecue party that night to celebrate his arrival, and Talia sent all three of them to the market to get some things. 

Peter sighed and rolled his eyes when he heard the brothers starting another argument about the grocery list and who had forgotten the fucking paper back at the house and who was going to call Talia when something strange caught his attention. 

There was almost no wind, and yet his sense of smell was overcome by a strong, flowery, sweet scent. It was so overwhelming that he could feel it in the back of his throat. Peter huffed and turned his attention to the forest near the parking lot, scanning the trees and trying to see what it was. 

The scent grew heavier, and more musky, and it was almost as if he was chewing on rose petals. He turned to Derek and Cora and neither of them seemed to notice it, of course. He scanned the parking lot again and felt his heckles get up when the supermarket doors opened and a boy got out. 

He saw the boy jog to an old blue Jeep and suddenly the scent got sour, acrid, almost acidic. He knew this scent. It smelled like silence, like cold, mortality. Oblivion. 

Peter watched the boy’s movements grow rigid as he dropped the brown bag on the floor and fumbled with the car’s keys. And then he could smell blood, and before he was conscious of what he was doing, he started running towards the kid.  

“Uncle Peter?” He heard Cora ask, but it sounded muffled. All he could focus on now was how fast the boy’s heart was beating. He crossed the parking lot, getting to the Jeep just in time to catch the teen before he went to the floor.

Peter felt a horrible sense of impending doom, and everything went silent. He still could hear birds, the cars on the highway, and Derek and Cora at his side, and yet, there is some kind of inertia coming from the boy’s body that makes him disturbed. 

“What’s going on?” Derek asked, making a shadow on top of him and the boy.

“Is he having a heart attack? I can’t hear anything.” Cora kneeled beside him, grabbing the boy’s hat. “Oh, I go to school with him. Fuck, what’s that smell?”

Peter watched the boy’s features becoming paler, mouth purple, eyes white, a fine bloody line coming out of his right nostril. It was as if he had died a long time ago. He stared at him for a few moments, trying to decide what to do. 

He should probably call an ambulance, however, that would also bring the cops to the scene. But, was the boy dead? It had been so fast, and that smell, God, the smell. Smelled like death and yet it smelled so sweet. 

Thud.

The heartbeat was so faint, he almost missed it. He checked the boy’s pulse on the neck and felt nothing, body was so cold it almost burned his fingertips. And then the realization of what was happening made Peter gasp. It couldn’t be. In his almost forty years of life, he had never met one of them. 

They were so scarce and uncommon that Peter could only remember his grandma telling stories about the mystical creatures that wandered around in limbo, helping the ones who had just recently died.

Peter knew deep down what he had just encountered. 

A  Seer.  

Whole fuck. 

Thud.

Peter wasted no time and started to do CPR. He couldn’t remember any rules on how to help, and he was pretty sure his grandma never said anything about teenage boys having the vision. All he could remember was that they were usually women with great power, and that the power would come from a lineage.

Derek and Cora were arguing again, and Peter growled, nervous. The air around them felt sinister and malign, and yet, the boy looked so innocent and harmless. He pinched the boy’s nose and blew air into his mouth, feeling the lungs expand beneath his hand. 

The hostile aura makes all the hairs on his body stand up, and he goes back to doing compressions. 

“Come on, don’t give up on me now,” Peter says. His arms are pushing so hard against the teen’s chest that his body is rocking. 

And then he hears the almost non-existent heart rate skyrocket to the roof. The teen coughs, and coughs, and coughs. Derek and Cora are getting agitated nearby, and Peter can only stare at his face, hypnotized. 

White eyes turning brown, blue lips turning rosy, expression lines getting deeper, the body still cold as ice. It was as if the boy’s body got old before turning back to his actual age. Peter never saw someone getting back from the dead, but if he had to describe it to anyone, it would probably be like what he is watching right now.

Peter sees him blink a few times and then close his eyes, discomfort explicit on his face. Peter has a vague sense that the boy is trying to fight against the supernatural claws that seemed to still be stuck in him. His features look so aged, so ancient, as if his soul had gotten old while stranded in purgatory. 

The teen runs his hand through his face a few times, tries to force his eyes open, trying desperately to snap out of it, and it all looks agonizing as hell. 

Peter gets up and runs back to the Camaro, getting the trunk open and taking a rag from his bag and some old water bottle he had bought in New York. Cora and Derek were talking with the boy, trying to calm him down. He was agitated, and it was obvious that he was panicking. 

“I have a wet rag here. Maybe it will help you with the eyes, huh, what do you think?” Peter wets the rag and kneels back down.

The boy nods, and Peter waits a few seconds for him to breathe deeply. It must be nerve-racking to not have control over the body, especially after something like this. His skin is still cold, but not at that alarming level as before, and the water is warm from being in the trunk all day. 

The boy sighs and Peter laughs; adrenaline being replaced by relief, and then he feels something he's never felt before. There is a strange feeling inside his stomach, a pull from inside his core. 

“That good, huh?”

All traces of an older person are slowly disappearing before his eyes, and the pull gets stronger. The boy touches Peter’s cheek, and for a moment, his wolf has a ridiculous urge to nose the boy’s palm. And just like that, he knows this is it. That's him.  

Peter hoped the boy’s name was Christopher.